


Of Friendship And Duty

by Glon_Morski



Series: FFXV Kinkmeme Fills [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Background Character Death, Competent Noctis Lucis Caelum, False Accusations, Gen, Homelessness, Promptis if you squint I guess, brotherhood era, kinkmeme fill, murder investigation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:01:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26195299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glon_Morski/pseuds/Glon_Morski
Summary: When a bug sweeps through the Citadel and both King Regis and Clarus are laid down sick and unable to rule, it is up to Noctis to step up as Prince Regent until one or both of them recover. When a Crownsguard and Kingsglaive operative are found dead in one of the alleys in Insomnia, it is up to him to pass judgment on the captured murderer responsible. Which is all well and good, nothing too difficult as the evidence points to only one conclusion, and thus one judgment to be passed.At least until it turns out that the supposed murderer is Prompto.A fill forthis kinkmeme prompt
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia & Prompto Argentum & Noctis Lucis Caelum & Ignis Scientia
Series: FFXV Kinkmeme Fills [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1902340
Comments: 18
Kudos: 41





	Of Friendship And Duty

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the following kinkmeme promt:
> 
> "Prompto gets arrested for a crime that happened near his house, and is convicted due to his vincity to the crime, and suspicious behavior leading up to it (not showing up to school, missing calls, lying to Noct about where he was, etc).
> 
> Prompto/Noctis preferably, but Gen is fine.
> 
> +Noct is involved with deciding what the "criminals" punishment will be as part of king training, without knowing it's Prompto.
> 
> +++Only Noct believes Prompto didn't do it
> 
> ++++++Prompto had been homeless for a while, and kept it from the bros, and was distancing himself from them as he juggled multiple jobs and school."
> 
> Also, a rather important part of the plot relies on a certain headcanon of mine. More to that in notes at the end of the story to avoid spoilers. WIthout further ado, I hope you enjoy :3

Noctis frowned as he looked through the reports littering his desk once again. There were far more than usual - and accordingly, he had much more work than usual, which Ignis nagged him to do if he ever so much as thought of putting it off like he used to, and admittedly like he still sometimes wanted to. It was to be expected all things considered. There was some kind of bug going through the Citadel and both his father and Clarus were laid down with it, along with several Council members and servants. With the King and his Shield being out of commission and Noctis being eighteen and ‘officially’ an adult, he was the next in the chain of command, so naturally, pretty much everything fell to him, at least until his father or Clarus recovered.

In such a situation, there was no time for being reluctant or uncertain. There was no time to brood and put things off for later no matter how much he felt like he was about to drown in all of the expectation suddenly thrust upon him. Like it or not, Noctis had to step up and do his part. He had a duty as the heir to the throne, as the Crown Prince.

And, well, there was also the fact that it was only temporary and he knew that. That helped. That and not wanting his father to recover and return to an utter, unmanageable mess because his son was too much of a failure to keep things running for a week or two. He wanted to make him proud and prove that he could handle it, no matter how much he might feel the opposite himself. More than anything, he just didn’t want to disappoint his dad.

Or Ignis and Gladio, for that matter, who were both helping him out where they could.

So there was no time for doubts or reluctance and he didn’t allow himself the time to have a chance to feel either. Instead, he threw himself into his duty, figuring that if he kept busy, he wouldn’t have the time to think and wonder if he was really doing a good job.

It worked for the most part. Well, kind of. As well as it could be expected to.

The papers rustled as he leafed through them again. The particular stack he was working through were reports on a murder case. Which was unusual in and off itself because as one would expect, crimes of any kind weren’t generally handled by the Citadel. There was a police force for that. This particular case, however, was directly connected to the Citadel, hence why it was taken out of the police’s hands.

That was doubly odd all things considered. Because usually crimes connected to the Citadel involved the royal family. In fact, pretty much all so-called ‘crimes connected to the Citadel’ could be called by a different name: assassination attempts. As a result, they usually fell under the jurisdiction of the Crownsguard, sometimes the Kingsglaive. And as one would expect, the culprits were pretty swiftly executed.

This particular case was different in that the crime wasn’t an assassination attempt, but an actual, successful murder that cost the lives of two people. Even more interestingly, the murderer’s targets were not of the royal family, since both Noctis and his father were obviously still alive, but two members of the very groups tasked with protecting the royals: one from the Crownsguard, and one from the Kingsglaive. Because of this, both groups were potentially compromised and couldn’t be tasked with deciding the fate of the murderer (as he had already been caught) as they usually would, and so the task fell to the King.

Since the murdered also happened to be pretty high ranking officers, the matter couldn’t exactly wait until Noctis’s father or Clarus recovered from their illness. Which was why Noctis found himself having to read through all the reports to know all there was to know about the situation, and from there decide the fate of the accused. Preferably before the audience during which he was supposed to share said fate with said criminal.

There was one little problem, though. Noctis couldn’t very well decide the fate of a man (or woman) who allegedly killed two other people based on the accounts of everyone and their mother, but not the accused himself. (Or herself. Might be a woman. Frankly, Noctis had no idea, as the person’s name and even gender wasn’t mentioned in any of the reports, carefully avoided with the use of gender-neutral pronouns.)

Alright, maybe he was exaggerating, but the point still stood. He had the account of the one who found the bodies and called the incident in, he had the account from the Crownsguard who made the arrest after catching the culprit with the murder weapon still in their possession, he had the accounts of other Crownsguard and Kingsglaives who knew the deceased and had been the last to see them alive, he even had the account of the unfortunate soul or two that happened to hear just enough to be considered witnesses, but he didn’t have anything from the supposed murderer themselves. Or at least he couldn’t find the blasted report anywhere, because surely it had to be here somewhere, right?

Suppressing a groan, Noctis started to leaf quickly through the rest of the small mountain of reports Ignis had painstakingly organized for him, looking for the one he was missing, but he continued to come up empty.

“Are you looking for anything in particular, Noct?” came the voice of his advisor as Ignis stepped into the room with yet another folder of papers. Noctis nearly groaned again at the sight, already hating the idea of even more paperwork.

He was never going to complain about having to read just a couple reports a week from council meeting Ignis went to in his stead again. 

“The missing report for that crime case,” Noctis replied, not quite able to make himself call it what it really was: murder. It was different with assassination attempts. Not only were those pretty much to be expected to happen eventually by this point (even if they could still be admittedly scary because, well, near-death experiences tended to be no matter how tough you were), but they also involved just him or his dad. It wasn’t that it made it better or anything, but as much as Noctis hated it, being killed or seeing his father die were possibilities he had long since gotten used to thinking of. He didn’t accept them, he never would and he wouldn’t stand for ever letting it happen in reality if he could help it, but thinking about it wasn’t all that abnormal.

This wasn’t about him, though. This was about two men who served his father and who died in that service. Who, as far as the reports told him, were killed because of it. So in a way, because of his father and Noctis himself. That made it much different, harder to accept or talk about, somehow. More horrifying, too. 

Ignis sighed.

“Which one have you lost?”

“The one with the account from the accused,” Noctis said, then looked up at Ignis when the other man didn’t immediately come closer to magically pull the needed piece of paper from seemingly nowhere like he usually tended to do. Instead, he remained standing where he was and blinked once at Noctis’s words.

“There is no such account, Noct,” he said at length and it was Noctis’s turn to blink.

“What?” he asked, not quite able of wrapping his mind around that.

“There is no such account,” Ignis repeated. “The criminal was never questioned.”

“What?” Noctis couldn’t help but ask again in astonishment. “You’re telling me I’m supposed to decide a person’s fate, which, let’s face it, is likely either the rest of their life in prison or the death penalty, without them having a chance to fucking defend themselves? What if they’re innocent?”

“The other accounts we’ve gathered and the evidence are decidedly condemning. It had been deemed unnecessary to question the murderer,” Ignis replied, pushing his glasses up his nose even though they haven’t slid down even a millimeter. “However,” he continued before Noctis could cut in again, “as you know, the decision in this situation as to what his fate will be lies with the King and the King alone even if the Council might like to make you think otherwise. And the King can make his choice based on the accounts he has, deeming them enough, or he can prove himself benevolent and question the accused himself during the audience to give them a chance to defend themselves before the ultimate verdict.”

It was a rather roundabout way of saying ‘you can get their side of things if you want, no one can possibly stop you from doing so,’ but it was how Ignis usually gave advice so Noctis didn’t really think much of it. Catching on to the indirectly stated personal opinion Ignis wove in there wasn’t particularly difficult, either.

“Alright,” he said quietly and his eyes fell back to the reports he _did_ have. “Thanks, Specs.”

He would give the accused a chance to tell their side of the story. It was only right, after all. But in the meantime, he had to read and commit to memory the accounts he had. He only had about half an hour before the audience. Or really, the trial, because that was what it really was. That was fine, though. He already read the reports twice, so he could remember some of it. It would be fine.

He could handle this.

* * *

He absolutely, totally, definitely could _not_ handle this.

Prompto trembled in his boots where he stood in front of the massive door that would lead to the audience chamber where his fate would be decided.

That wasn’t even really what he was anxious about, though. He knew the most likely outcome of this meeting, after all. He wasn’t a fool. He knew he had no way of talking himself out of this. He had been found close to the alley where the crime had taken place, he had the gun that had been used for it in his hand, he had no alibi that anyone could confirm and no believable story to support it because… well… because the only people who could possibly confirm any story he told thought he had been somewhere else entirely. Because he had lied to them. Repeatedly.

So yeah, Prompto knew he had no chance of talking himself out of this, even if King Regis saw any merit in asking him for his story - which no one thus far had bothered to do. He knew he’d almost definitely be sentenced guilty and he knew what that meant. He had made his peace with it, sort of. As much as could be expected, anyway. That wasn’t the main reason for his anxiety.

The main reason for the nauseating feeling was that this definitely wasn’t the way he wanted to meet Noct’s dad for the first time.

It almost seemed surreal, really. They’d been friends for years now and yet neither Noct nor Prompto had met each other’s families. In Noct’s case, it was because his father was so busy he could hardly make time for his own son, let alone his son’s friends. In Prompto’s case, it was more that his parents were just never home. They worked a lot and their work demanded they travel a lot, or at least that’s what he’d told Noct every time the question popped up.

Another lie added to the long list.

Reality didn’t care whether or not he was ready, though. Before he knew it, the large doors were open and he was unceremoniously shoved inside, stumbling into the room and almost face-planting right then and there. It was a small miracle he didn’t, that he managed to remain upright and walk forward to the spot where he was supposed to be, at which point the Crownsguard behind him forced him to his knees. Throughout the procedure, Prompto’s eyes remained on the floor. He couldn’t bring himself to even look at the king’s feet, much less meet his gaze.

For a minute utter silence reigned in the room. Then Prompto heard the subtle shifting of cloth as someone in front of him - the king, most likely - shifted and the spell was broken.

“State your name.”

Prompto froze. That wasn’t the king’s voice. Not that he could judge because he’d never met the king, but he knew that couldn’t be his voice because this voice seemed familiar. Unable to help himself, his head jerked up to meet the royal’s gaze.

It wasn’t the king sitting in the chair at the head of the table the Council sat around. Or where the head of the table would be had there been one. There wasn’t, though. The council formed an ellipse around Prompto, the center of their attention, and at the head of it, right in front of him, sat none other than Noct.

If Prompto had felt nauseous at the idea of meeting king Regis in these circumstances, having Noct in front of him instead made it a small miracle he didn’t throw up right then and there. And he’d thought this couldn’t get any worse.

“Prompto. Prompto Argentum,” he said automatically, though his tongue felt wooden. Noct’s eyes were cold. Distant in a way Prompto had never seen them, not even when Noct had put on his Prince Face at school before Prompto got to know him and realized the distant behavior was just a mask. This probably was, too. But still, seeing his friend look at him like he didn’t know him, like he didn’t care… it was frightening and it hurt, even if Prompto understood Noctis wasn’t exactly in a position where he could allow himself to be familiar with him right now.

“Prompto Argentum. You stand accused of murdering two men working directly for the crown. What do you plead?” Even his voice was cold. Distant. Formal. Prompto shivered.

“Innocent!” he called out, unable to hold back his desperation. He hadn’t planned to plead guilty before the king, either, no matter how condemned he already was. He didn’t do it and he’d be damned if he willingly took the fall for someone else. But to have Noct question him like that made it somehow worse, even if a part of him understood the prince was only doing what he had to.

Unless… unless he didn’t? The evidence _was_ condemning, after all. What reason would Noct have to think Prompto didn’t do it all things considered? What if he believed the blond had actually done it?

The mere thought made him feel ill.

“I didn’t do it!” he called again before he could stop himself. “Noct, you know I would never—!”

“Silence,” Noctis interrupted, drawing himself up to sit straighter. Prompto snapped his mouth shut and gulped. Everyone stared at them both. The silence was stifling. The prince narrowed his eyes as he stared at him. “You will address Us with the respect Our station demands,” he said at last, and if possible, the room feel into an even more deafening silence. Prompto gaped.

He wasn’t an expert on Lucian royal tendencies, traditions and formal behavior or anything, but everyone knew that few were the kings of the Lucis Caelum line who put themselves so far above the people they ruled and even other nobles that they’d speak in the ‘royal we’, as people called it. Noctis choosing to do so now was the ultimate demand of respect and also the ultimate reminder of just who he was. As if anyone in this room had forgotten.

It was also, he realized as he looked at Noct’s stony expression and cold eyes, the most absolute way in which he could distance himself from Prompto, from the friendship that bound them. Because right now, they weren’t friends. They couldn’t be no matter how much Prompto might wish for the opposite. Right now, they were a criminal and a sovereign about to pass judgment. And Noctis needed to act the part. Unless that wasn’t the only reason. Unless he was simply disgusted he’d ever called Prompto a friend because he believed him to be guilty. The blond gulped at the thought and lowered his head again.

“Forgive me, Your Highness,” he whispered, though the address felt wrong on his tongue. He’d never called Noct that. He had never _wanted_ to call Noct that. Sure, his friend was a prince, but still, at the end of the day, they were friends and that was what mattered most. What was _supposed_ to matter most. “I plead innocent.”

“You are aware the evidence speaking against you is irrefutable, are you not?” Noctis asked after a moment of silence. Prompto kept his head down. He didn’t dare look up again.

“Yes.”

“Yet you still plead innocent?”

“Yes. I didn’t do it,” Prompto insisted. He raised his head then despite not wanting to, meeting Noctis’s cold eyes with his own, pleading ones. “I didn’t kill anyone. I swear it on whatever you want me to,” he said, inwardly begging Noct to believe him. “Your Highness,” he tacked on hastily, catching his own blunder before he could be called out on it again. Noctis regarded him for a moment longer, then leaned back in his chair slightly. But the look in his eyes still remained cold, impassive and distant. He was still looking down on Prompto like he might at a bug on the sole of his shoe. Prompto shivered and lowered his head again, swallowing.

“Tell Us what you were doing on the evening of the crime,” Noctis commanded, the words causing a wave of quiet whispers to pass through the present people. One of the council members shifted and turned to look at the prince carefully.

“Your Highness, with all due respect, surely there is no need? The other accounts and the evidence speak for themselves. There is no need to listen to an account of what happened that is sure to contain nothing but lies,” he said, his words carefully respectful, but his voice hard. It was like he expected Noct to fold, to listen to him. Which was odd. Noct was the prince and, right now, in this room, the supreme authority, wasn’t he?

“That is true,” Noctis agreed calmly and the council member smirked in satisfaction. The expression slipped right off his face, however, when Noctis continued. “However, the accused still pleads innocent. Thus We believe he has a right to defend himself. He shall give Us his own account.” He looked at Prompto then and the blond bowed his head again, unable to meet that cold, distant gaze. “Speak, Argentum.”

Prompto swallowed. He wasn’t a fool. He knew an order when he heard one. And even if it hadn’t been one, if Noctis had just asked, he would have told him what happened. Even if he knew it wouldn’t change anything. He was tired of lying.

So he obeyed.

***

**“I stayed late at school that day. I… I told you- I mean, I told Noc.. uhm... Your Highness…”**

**“You may refer to Us by name in your account.”**

**“Alright… I mean, yes, Highness. Uhm… I told… _you_ , Noct, that it was because of some extra assignment. To make up for the few last classes I failed and push up my grades. That… that was a lie.”**

Prompto sighed as he glanced down at the papers in front of him. Most (if not all) of them were exactly what he’d told Noct they were. Assignments, homework. Only they weren’t extra for him to push his grades up. Those were the assignments due the past two weeks, most of which he hadn’t managed to turn in on time. Up until now, the teachers were surprisingly lenient with extensions, but they also told him that couldn’t continue forever. He needed to hand his work in, and sooner rather than later.

He understood, of course, so he didn’t try to complain. There wouldn’t be a point, as it was his own fault he couldn’t manage the workload, anyway. He should be able to manage his time better. Somehow.

Hell, he should have been able to manage his time and finances well enough to not have been evicted from his parents’ home for not paying the rent in the first place. Thankfully, it was a temporary thing. Or at least he thought so. It wasn’t like his parents gave him any sort of heads-up that they would stop providing him money. The money transfers just… stopped without any explanation about two months ago. Any attempts to reach his parents had remained unanswered and by this point, his phone was dead more often than not so it wasn’t like he could check it, either. But he tried the bank card every now and again to see if new money had come it.

So far, aside from his own meager earnings that just barely allowed him to not starve or freeze to death in the streets, there was nothing.

**“In truth I was just… waiting. For you to leave. So you wouldn’t see where I went.”**

**“And where is it you headed?”**

**“The… the soup kitchen… Your Highness. It’s on my way to work.”**

**“And you had a work shift that day?”**

**“I… yeah… I mean, yes… Your Highness.”**

He didn’t need to wait long. Noct usually didn’t stick around the school gate longer than he absolutely had to. He probably wouldn’t even without Ignis waiting for him with the car.

That was a good thing, because as much as Prompto wanted to stay in school and (finally) finish up his overdue assignments, the sad truth was that he couldn’t do that. He had work to get to, his shift started in about half an hour and he planned to stop by the soup kitchen on the way there. He could hopefully get a warm meal there for the first (and likely only) time this week. He didn’t get many chances to go there. He couldn’t go too often or his friends might get wind of it. Noct volunteered there sometimes and the last thing Prompto needed was to be caught there by him. So he only went on days that fit certain, very specific criteria.

  1. He had to be hundred percent sure that Noct wouldn’t be volunteering that day.
  2. He had to be equally sure neither Noct nor Ignis nor Gladio would pass in the general vicinity of the soup kitchen for any reason and accidentally spot him there.
  3. He had a shift at the pizzeria nearby that Noctis didn’t know about and thus would never even think of dropping by before, during or after it.



The third criteria was rather easy to meet, given Noct didn’t know about this particular gig at all. He knew about the other one, at the convenience store where Prompto sometimes got the night shift. There was a third one that the blond was struggling to keep, but he suspected he’d soon be let go given how often he was late due to his other work, oversleeping or school. Because as much as he might prioritize work over school for obvious reasons, well, he also needed to graduate. So he couldn’t skip out too much.

The other two were trickier, though. Noct usually didn’t tell him when he had his volunteer days unless it could directly impact their hang-out times. But since those have been dwindling in recent weeks, well…

Actually, now that Prompto thought about it, when had been the last time Noct had asked him to hang out before today? Was it this week? The week before? It… it couldn’t have been longer than that, could it?

He didn’t remember. He couldn’t tell when the last time Noct had offered him to hang out had been. He remembered even less when the last time was that _he_ asked _Noct_. It had to have been before this entire, stupid money issue. And now that he thought about it, today, while Noct had asked him… he didn’t actually seem like he’d care either way. He’d been… closed off. Like he was already expecting a denial and had accepted it before it happened, but asked just on the off chance Prompto would prove him wrong anyway.

The blond stopped dead in his tracks at that realization, his eyes growing wide. Someone bumped into him and cursed as they passed, berating him for stopping so suddenly in the middle of a crowded street, but he hardly noticed. Mentally, he sifted through all of his latest interactions with Noct, suddenly desperate to remember something. Anything. That small upturn of his lips that came as close to a smile as Noct could get. That oddly fond look in his eyes when he looked at Prompto. That low chuckle when he teased him about his clumsiness or something else of that sort. When had been the last time Prompto had seen any of that?

He wasn’t sure. In all of his recent memories, Noct barely talked to him. And when he did, he looked sullen. Broody. He looked like he did when he glanced at the TV while the king was on sometimes. When had that started to happen? Since when did he do that?

Since when did he stop offering Prompto a sleepover? Or even just to spend an afternoon together?

Since when did he start looking at him the same way he did at his phone when he got a message from his father?

Since when… since when was their friendship frayed so badly that Noct resigned himself to Prompto blowing him off? And how the Hell did Prompto not notice when he usually prided himself on being so observant, if nothing else?!

His breath caught on a sob and he bit his lip hard to keep the tears that wanted to spring to his eyes at bay. Crying wouldn’t help him any. The only thing that would help was talking to Noct, to try and explain at least some of it. He had to talk to him. He had to fix it.

His phone was dead, though, and even if it wasn’t, he didn’t exactly have a working phone bundle anymore, since he couldn’t really afford it either. And he couldn’t run to wherever Noct was (probably his apartment all things considered) because he had work and he had to go or he’d lose the job and then he really wouldn’t have any way of getting food on the table anymore.

Not that he had a table to set the food on anyway, but that was beside the point.

Tomorrow, then. He would talk to Noct tomorrow at school. He’d explain as well as he could without revealing too much. He didn’t want his friend to know how much of a failure he was, and he wanted even less to be seen as a charity case or something. He didn’t want or need Noct’s pity. But he also didn’t want to lose his friend. So he would explain as much as he could without giving himself away. He would fix this. He _would_.

For now though, he had work to get to. And the soup kitchen before that so he could actually get a proper meal into his empty stomach for once. Usually, he had to survive more or less on dry bread so he’d have enough money to last him from paycheck to paycheck.

One would think that between three jobs (or two-and-a-half considering he was really quite certain he wouldn’t get to keep the third one for long) he’d have more than enough money at least for the food. But then one had to keep in mind that it wasn’t like it was a full-time job. He was still a high school student, after all, and he definitely looked his age, so part time jobs were the best he could hope for. And those didn’t exactly pay well.

When he got to the soup kitchen, however, he found it absolutely packed. The line of people hoping for a warm meal much like himself was long enough to extend well past the entrance of the building. There was no way he’d have the time to stand in line, get the food and eat before having to be at work. There was just no way.

Prompto sighed. Ignoring the enticing smells coming from inside - it almost smelled like Ignis’s cooking, but that was probably his imagination; at the point he was at, _everything_ smelled like Ignis’s cooking - and the way his empty stomach twisted in protest, Prompto passed the soup kitchen and headed straight for work.

**“Can anyone attest to you having been at the soup kitchen?”**

**“No… I… ended up not going inside. The line was too long. I couldn’t spare the time so I gave up on it.”**

**“...So what did you do, then?”**

**“I went to work.”**

He was late.

He had been certain he wouldn’t be, but he was late. Because he was an idiot and mixed up his shifts. He was supposed to have been here two hours ago. Right after school, without time to stay there an additional half an hour until he was absolutely sure Noct wouldn’t be anywhere in the vicinity or stopping by the soup kitchen. But he’d mixed up the days and he did both so he was late.

Tremendously, unpardonably late.

And unfortunately, it hadn’t been the first time. Needless to say, his boss was far from thrilled.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise when he was told there was no need for him to stay. It shouldn’t have, but it did anyway. Enough so that for a moment, Prompto was willing to beg. He needed this job. Needed the money it provided him, what little it was.

In the end, though, he didn’t. Because it wasn’t like he didn’t understand. There were better employees to be found elsewhere. He was replaceable easily enough. He was expendable. Especially if he failed to show up when he was supposed to. He knew that. He understood. So he merely bowed his head and left. He would just… find a new job somewhere. Or something.

Assuming anyone would even hire him considering he lived in the streets and it was certainly beginning to show. Not enough that everyone at school caught on to it, of course, Prompto was sensible enough to try his damnest to keep up appearances any way he could to avoid that. (The river running along his old running route could attest to that, as he tended to wash himself there in the early morning, freezing temperatures be damned, and when he could he washed his clothes as well, particularly the school uniform, so Noct wouldn’t get suspicious.) Still, there was only so much he could do in his current circumstances and as things were, he doubted he’d find another job. And even if he did, it would be unlikely he could start earlier than next week.

He was almost out of money again, too. He definitely didn’t have enough to sustain him until his next paycheck at one of his other jobs and he’d sometimes been able to grab some of the leftovers that would have otherwise be thrown away anyway here. He had hoped to do that today, too. So much for that.

The sheer hopelessness of his situation was almost too much and Prompto had to once again bite his lip to stop himself from crying. Crying wouldn’t help. 

But then again, as things were, he doubted anything could help him. He was out of options. At least short-term ones that could help him in the immediate moment. And long-term ones wouldn’t save him from his current crisis.

Although… maybe there wasn’t any _thing_ that could help him, but the same couldn’t be same for any _one_. There was Noct. Sure, their friendship was frayed beyond belief now (and Prompto still couldn’t believe it had taken him this long to notice; what the Hell was wrong with him?!) but they were still friends. If he called Noct now, if he explained everything or at least promised to, if he asked for help, he was sure Noct wouldn’t turn him away. He could sleep in a warm bed for the first time in two months. He could eat Ignis’s delicious cooking (a proper meal!), he could relax just for one afternoon and play video games, maybe. He just had to call Noct.

The temptation of all that was more than enough to have him frantically dig his phone out of his pocket. It wasn’t on and it didn’t turn on no matter how long Prompto pressed the power button. Right, it was dead. He needed to charge it. He had to find someplace to charge it. He knew there were electric sockets in the pizzeria he had just been thrown out of but he knew better than to go inside. Maybe one of the nearby stores? Surely he could find a socket he could plug his phone into for just a few moments somewhere? Just long enough to call Noct. He didn’t need any longer than that.

He was so out of it, so desperate all of a sudden, that he forgot he was in the middle of a relatively crowded street. He turned around frantically, not even looking where he was going beyond a vague ‘into the nearest store’, so of course, it was only to be expected that he’d run into someone. He fell on his ass with a small groan, shaking his head at the collision and sudden fall. When he raised his head, he saw the other person, a middle aged man in a pristine suit not unlike the ones Noct sometimes wore to fancy events, was on the ground, too.

“I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—” he stammered, only to be interrupted.

“Watch where you’re going you stupid kid,” the man said angrily as he stood and dusted himself off. He looked down at Prompto with a glare briefly then inspected his suit. If possible, his glare became even more heated. Prompto swallowed. “Now look what you’ve done,” the man growled, pointing to a tear in the expensive fabric of his clothes. The blond blanched. “Do you have any idea how much this suit is worth? The likes of you couldn’t afford even a sleeve of it in their lifetime. And now it’s ruined because of you.”

“I… I’m sorry… I didn’t mean… I…” Prompto stammered, unsure what he could say to salvage the situation besides apologizing. Not that the man cared much for his apologies.

“You’re going to pay for this,” he said, glaring down at Prompto with a look that just dared him to disagree. “There’s no way you can pay for all of the damage but maybe you can at least provide a third of the price. Come now, hop to it,” the man said impatiently, holding out a hand and wiggling his fingers expectantly. For a second, Prompto could only stare at him uncomprehendingly. Pay? As in, literally? With money? He didn’t have any! “Move it, boy, I don’t have all day,” the man snapped, waving his hand again in that well-known ‘hurry up and hand it over’ gesture. “Unless you’d rather pay reparations in another way, that can be arranged too.”

The blond shivered. He had no idea what ‘another way’ might mean, but considering the look on the man’s face, he was pretty sure he didn’t want to find out. Numbly, he reached into his school bag and took out his wallet before handing it over to the man. It was snatched out of his hand before he could blink and was thrown back at his face a second later, emptied of all the bills it held. All the money he had on him.

All the money he had, period.

“Tch. That won’t even cover a third of it. You’re lucky I’m generous enough to let it slide,” the man said as he put the money away and turned to leave. “The youth of today, I swear. What do they think they’re doing?” he muttered angrily as he left. Prompto remained sitting on the edge of the sidewalk, ignored by anyone passing him by. He stared blankly at his lap and the now empty wallet he was holding there.

The man was right. What was he doing? Trying to call Noct? Ask for his help? He couldn’t do that. It would look like he was only planning to exploit the prince for his money and he’d promised himself he’d never do anything that might come off that way. And even if Noct didn’t take it that way, why would he want to remain friends with him if he know how much of a fuck-up Prompto really was? That he couldn’t hold down a job? That he could hold on to his own meager savings? That he couldn’t even keep a goddamn roof over his head?

It wasn’t like Prompto was a kid anymore. He was eighteen. He was an adult. He was supposed to be able to take care of himself, not be so much of a failure he ended up on the street without a single Insomnian Crown to his name.

If he called Noct now, he’d have to explain everything. He’d have to admit to everything. Every failure, every issue that had proved insurmountable when it shouldn’t have. There was no way Noct would ever want to be his friend if he knew half of it, let alone all of it. So Prompto couldn’t tell him. He couldn’t. Yes, their friendship was frayed, but it was still _salvageable_. It wouldn’t be if Prompto called now, begging for help with a situation he should have been able to avoid getting himself into in the first place.

He sighed and slowly picked himself up, dusted himself off - not that it did much for his clothing - and put his empty wallet into his bag again. Noct couldn’t know. Prompto couldn’t call him. He had to figure this out on his own, somehow. And he would. He didn’t really have much of a choice.

**“How long were you at work? Can anyone confirm you were there?”**

**“Yes, my boss. Well… former boss… I didn’t… I was let go. So I didn’t stay for my shift. I… left a few minutes after getting there.”**

**“...”**

**“...Noc... I-I mean… Your... Highness…?”**

**“Tell Us where you went next.”**

**“Ah… I-uh… I…”**

**“...”**

**“I’m sor… uhm… ap-apologies…** **Your Highness. I-uh… well… I went… home. Or what counts as home… I guess…”**

In all honesty, he didn’t really remember getting back to his neighborhood. He knew he had to have walked there, obviously, but he didn’t remember actually going. He was too out of it. Too lost in his despair and desolation and the fact that he had no idea what to do anymore, or if there even was anything he _could_ do. He was starting to think there weren’t actually any options.

The place he currently claimed as his own wasn’t too far from his old house. While he hadn’t been able to take much with him when he’d been evicted, it was enough that he hadn’t wanted to carter it across half of Insomnia. Plus, his neighborhood was relatively decent. Maybe a bit on the poorer side, but decent. Safe. He could sleep on a park bench without having to worry about anyone minding him (or trying to rob him of what little he had left, not that there was much) for one.

Of course, that didn’t mean he left his stuff strewn about everywhere out in the open. He wasn’t an idiot and he couldn’t really afford to lose any of it, so he had to hide it and hide it well. It was either that or carrying all he owned with him wherever he went, which just wasn’t an option.

Which was another reason to stay in his general neighborhood. He knew where he could hide his things there and not have to worry too much. Not that that in itself was hard to figure out as hiding them behind a dumpster or something usually did the trick and people just thought it was trash. As there weren’t that many other extremely poor people around, it wasn’t like Prompto had to worry about anyone looking through the dumpster or his stuff during the day. The only potential issue would be if a garbage truck came by and took his things along with the actual garbage. But Prompto knew when garbage men came by so he knew when to not leave his things hidden in such a spot, when to move them elsewhere. He wouldn’t have that advantage in another neighborhood. 

As he was trekking through the park close to where his house used to be, the scent of food wafted up into his nose. There was a skewer stand nearby and the scent of freshly cooked meat almost made Prompto come undone. His stomach twisted, his hunger spiking suddenly and gnawing at him, his body demanding he take advantage of the opportunity and get something.

He didn’t have the money for it, though.

Damn it, he was an idiot. He should have at least gone to the soup kitchen after being let go. He could have at least gotten some food there. Now he had to go hungry again and he didn’t have anyone to blame but himself.

His body seemed to not only agree, but also to show him exactly how unhappy it was with him. His stomach twisted again as he sped up to leave, as if to reprimand him for daring to walk away from a food source like this. Prompto actually staggered, the sensation becoming downright painful. The continued scent coming from the cart wasn’t helping, either.

He somehow managed to get to the nearest, empty bench and promptly collapsed on it. He wrapped his arms around his midsection and curled up into a tiny ball as the pain got worse, his body demanding food it could smell, food he couldn’t provide it with. He whined slightly and shivered. It hurt. It hurt so fucking badly but he couldn’t do anything to make it stop no matter how much he might want to. He wouldn’t stoop as low as stealing. He didn’t _want_ to stoop that low, no matter what.

He was pathetic enough as it was, he didn’t need to become a criminal on top of that.

**“Explain.”**

**“Huh?”**

**“You said ‘what counts as home’. Explain.”**

**“Oh. Well… I mean… that is…”**

**“...”**

**“...”**

**“You would do well to not test Our patience.”**

**“I don’t have a home! I was evicted!”**

**“...”**

**“It’s true! I swear! Noct… I-I mean, Your Highness… I swear, I’m not lying! The park where I was caught… it’s where I sleep! Where I slept for the past couple of months. It’s where I cut through to get to where I usually hide my stuff! I just… I didn’t make it that day… I… I passed out.”**

It was the cold that woke him. Prompto wasn’t really sure when he fell asleep (or maybe passed out was a more accurate description), but by the time he woke up, it was nearly dark. His stomach had calmed, the painful cramps no longer present, but in their place was a weakness and numbness that wasn’t much better.

He was cold.

He was wet, too. Soaked to the bone, actually.

Thunder boomed overhead.

Oh. It was raining. That would explain why he was wet. And freezing.

He sat up slowly on the hard bench, his muscles protesting the movement. His vision spun a little. He… he needed to find shelter from the rain. He needed to warm up.

He needed food, too, but that had to be relegated to second or third priority. Getting somewhere dry and warm came first.

Shit, he still needed to get his things, too, or they’d be taken with the rest of the garbage tomorrow morning. So he had to go get what little he still owned, then find shelter and try to warm up.

Where would he find shelter, though, much less a place that was actually warm? By the looks of things, it was late already. Even if it wasn’t, it wasn’t like he could just go into some café and pick a table to sit at for hours. He knew this neighborhood. He knew there wasn’t actually anywhere he could go. Maybe he could find someplace dry, not that that would make much of a difference to him at this point, but there was nowhere he could think of where he could have any chance of getting warm.

Except one place. It wasn’t in his neighborhood, but there was one place.

Noct’s place.

But no. No, he couldn’t go to Noct. He couldn’t. It was out of the question.

So… where would he go then?

He didn’t know. His mind came up blank except for that one possible destination that was Noct’s apartment. Surely the prince wouldn’t turn him away. He’d let Prompto in, he’d get him warm, maybe even have some leftover food to share… the mere thought alone was enough to make Prompto shiver, his stomach growling again as if to remind him just how much he needed the sustenance he was failing to provide it. He swallowed and reached into his pocket to get out his phone.

He’d… he’d call Noct. He didn’t have much of a choice at this point, right? It was his only real option. He was cold. He was hungry. He was desperate. He had to call.

Except his phone was still dead. Right. There was that.

...would Noct still help if Prompto just showed up at his door unannounced? Could he do that? Calling and asking for help was bad enough, but could he just turn up at his friend’s door without warning and beg to be let in?

Yes. Yes, he could. It would be utterly humiliating and Noct would probably never want to hang out with him again and he’d lose his friend on top of everything else, but… but what else could he do? Stay here and freeze? Because it certainly felt like he would all things considered.

**“It was raining when I came to. Not sure of the hour. But it was dark and it was raining. I… I wanted to go to your… to... Noct’s... place. Just for a night if nothing else. But I never got the chance…”**

A shout tore through the silence of the night before he could make up his mind. There was a commotion somewhere nearby. Prompto startled and shot to his feet, though he immediately regretted the quick movement when his vision spun again and he swayed, nearly face planting into the mud. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it, but that only made it worse. He leaned against the bench and tried to get his bearings. If there was a commotion, then it would be preferable if he could get out of its general vicinity.

Then there was a gunshot. A startled yelp. A second gunshot. Then silence.

Prompto held his breath and looked up in the direction he thought the gunshots came from, but he couldn’t actually see anything. Between the darkness, the rain and his still-blurry vision it was impossible to make anything out.

A part of him realized the gunshots hadn’t sounded far off, though. It had been close. Which meant he could get caught up in it if he stayed much longer. He needed to leave. Needed to get out of there.

Except his body refused to cooperate. His muscles were stiff and he was cold and hungry and weak and his vision kept spinning in such a way that even standing upright was difficult, never mind walking.

He didn’t quite finish getting his bearings when someone ran past him, shoving him roughly to the ground. Prompto fell in a heap, his head slamming against the bench, causing his vision to go black for a moment. His head started to pound in rhythm with his heart and he moaned, pushing himself carefully into a more upright position and then to his feet. Something slid off his chest and fell to the ground with a clatter as he did so. Something heavy. He blinked, looking down to see a black shape at his feet he didn’t immediately recognize. Oddly curious, he bent down to pick it up - an action his head immediately made him regret and he was quick to straighten again, not that it helped with the pain or his spinning, blurry vision - and examine it closer. His brow furrowed in confusion. It was… a gun? Why was there a gun at his feet? Well, because it fell off his chest, obviously, but why was it lying on his chest? He didn’t own a gun. He’d know if he did. It wasn’t too hard to keep track of his few, meager belongings, after all, and a gun was definitely not one of them. Especially not a sleek, expensive looking one as this one was. He could never afford it.

So where exactly did it come from?

“Freeze!”

His scrambled brain didn’t get a chance to figure it all out. Before he knew what was even happening, he was on the ground again. The gun fell from his hands. There was someone on top of him, pinning him down and pulling his arms behind his back. What was going on?

“In the name of King Regis, you’re under arrest.”

***

“I heard a commotion. So I thought I should probably get out of there. But I didn’t… really manage. I was kind of out of it. From the cold, I guess. Next thing I knew someone was shoving me aside as they ran past,” Prompto continued quietly, no longer even trying to look up at Noct. He couldn’t bear to meet that cold, uncaring, distant gaze. Did Noctis even believe his disjointed story? Probably not. It wasm’t like it sounded all that believable, did it. “I think I hit my head when I fell, because I don’t really remember what happened after that. Not in detail. Next thing I know, there’s a gun in my hands and a Crownsguard on top of me.”

Silence followed the end of Prompto’s story. The kind of silence that felt heavy, oppressive even. The blond swallowed and bit his lower lip, but didn’t look up and kept his gaze trained on the floor, his head bowed. He didn’t want to see what kind of look Noctis was leveling him with. He was sure he was better off not knowing.

“Can you describe the person who shoved you?” Noctis asked after a moment and Prompto _did_ look up at him then, wide-eyed and gaping. Because… because it couldn’t be. Noctis didn’t actually believe him, did he? Of course, it wasn’t that Prompto was lying. He wasn’t. All he’d said was the truth and only the truth. But he was aware how flimsy the story was. How ‘convenient’ it seemed all things considered. And yet Noctis was asking as if he believed.

Their eyes met and Prompto swallowed. The prince’s gaze was still cold, distant. Blank. But not angry or condemning. He didn’t look like he thought Prompto was trying to play him for a fool, but there was no telling if he believed the story, either. There was no telling what he was thinking at all, period, or at least Prompto couldn’t read this new royal mask of his.

“I—”

“With all due respect, your Highness,” a middle-aged man with brown hair in a red leather coat spoke smoothly, “surely you cannot pretend to believe—” he cut himself off abruptly as Noct raised one hand briefly to silence him without even turning his head to look at him. His gaze and focus remained on Prompto.

“Answer Us,” he said instead. Prompto looked down again, intimidated by his best friend both because of the situation and the truly regal way he was acting. This wasn’t Noct. This was Prince Noctis. It was the first time Prompto really, truly saw the difference.

“No… Your Highness.” It still felt unnatural to call him that, though. No matter how he behaved, Noct was Noct. His friend. It felt wrong to call him anything else. Although after everything, they probably weren’t friends anymore. Or at least wouldn’t be once this was all over. Assuming Prompto would even live to see the light of day after this was over. He _was_ accused of cold-blooded murder on two people working directly for the crown, after all.

Noct didn’t reply for a while. Prompto looked down again and swallowed. When that man in the street had taken the last of his money, he’d thought he’d hit his lowest point. That he couldn’t possibly feel lower or more hopeless and humiliated. He was wrong. This was worse. This was so much worse…

“We shall consider what you’ve told Us,” the prince said finally into the dead silence of the room. Prompto blinked. He’ll… consider it? Wasn’t he supposed to make a decision now? That’s what Prompto had thought… unless Noct was just trying to prolong things to make it worse. It wasn’t his style, though. No matter how angry he was at Prompto - and he had to be angry after being dismissed and lied to for months by someone who had called himself his friend - he wasn’t the type to make him suffer in uncertainty out of sheer cruelty. Was he? “We shall call for you again once We’ve reached a decision.” Or maybe he was. What other reason could he have to prolong the inevitable, after all?

“Highness, with all due respect—”

“Take him away.”

“Highness…”

Two pairs of arms grabbed him none too gently by the arms and all but yanked him to his feet. Prompto struggled to get his balance with their rough treatment, attempting to walk rather than let himself be pathetically dragged away, but didn’t manage in the end. The Council was trying to talk to Noct, probably to remind him that he was supposed to reach a decision now, especially since it wasn’t like there was much to consider. Noct didn’t seem to want to listen, though.

“You contest Our decision?” he asked over the clamor of the councilmen, who immediately fell silent at the question. A few murmurs of ‘no, Highness’ swept through the room. The prince’s gaze moved from one councilman to the next before his eyes settled on Prompto again, right as the doors to the chamber were opened so he could be dragged out of the room.

The last thing he saw before the doors slammed shut again was Noct’s eyes: cold and distant and completely unfamiliar. Like they were not best friends at all. Like they were strangers, a king and his subject and nothing more.

Prompto should probably get used to that idea and that look, though. Because from now on… that’s probably what they would be.

* * *

“Care to explain what you thought you were doing in there?” Ignis asked once he closed the door to Noct’s chambers behind him, giving his charge a narrow-eyed gaze.

“Asking the accused for his account of things and deciding I needed to think things over before I decided his fate,” Noct responded briskly as he turned around. Gone was the distant, royal look. Instead, Ignis was met with a familiarly emotional glare. “Why the Hell didn’t you tell me the guy they suspected of murder was Prompto?”

“I haven’t been aware myself,” Ignis replied. It was true enough, he truly hadn’t known. Seeing the blond be brought before Noctis today in the hearing had been as much of a surprise to him as it clearly had been to Noct. Though the prince had done a surprisingly good job in covering that fact and in not letting his emotions rule his actions.

“But you wouldn’t have told me even if you had been,” Noctis muttered petulantly as he grabbed some of the documents off his desk and started to furiously leaf through them. Ignis sighed.

“I realize he was your friend, Noct…”

“Is.”

“I...beg your pardon?”

“He _is_ my friend. Not was.” Of course. Ignis should have expected that. Noctis was nothing if not stubborn. And loyal. Caring. All good qualities for a king most of the time, at least when he was being reasonable on top of that. Which the prince clearly didn’t plan on being. The advisor sighed.

“Noct, you must understand what he did. You know what the penalty for his crime is.”

“Except he didn’t do it.”

“You have no proof of that. And every proof condemning him anyone might possibly need.”

“Which is exactly why I’m going to find some proof.”

“And how, exactly, do you plan to do that?”

“Don’t know yet. But I’ll figure something out. Or you will, I guess.”

Ignis sighed again and rubbed at the bridge of his nose before pushing up his glasses.

“Noct—”

“How long can we reasonably stall before I have to call a judgment?” the prince interrupted, looking up from the papers suddenly to meet Ignis’ gaze. The advisor met his eyes and frowned in disapproval.

“Technically, you were supposed to have already called it,” he reminded. Noct groaned and rolled his eyes.

“Geez, I’m aware, Specs! Why do you think I’m asking how long the council will stand for that?” Noct replied in a frustrated tone, running a hand through his hair in obvious agitation. “They only reason they even listened to me in the first place instead for pushing me to condemn him right then and there was because I kept reminding them who it was that was supposed to be in charge and we both know that. If I hadn’t pulled that damn ‘We’ speech, they would have steamrolled all over me and don’t pretend they wouldn’t have.”

Ignis couldn’t exactly contest that statement because it was true. Noctis was young. Inexperienced. In need of guidance more often than not, especially now with all the new responsibilities thrust upon him so suddenly, even if it was only temporary. When the accused had turned out to be Prompto, of all people, Ignis had even been preparing himself to discreetly remind Noctis of his station and what he was supposed to do. But it hadn’t turned out to be necessary. With the exception of postponing the inevitable for what could only be sentimentality, Noctis had really acted like the prince he was. Like the king he would one day be.

Still, that one mistake was unfortunately a very grave one. Ignis bit back another sigh.

“Noct, I understand you may not want to believe someone you considered a friend to be guilty, but in light of the evidence there is only one conclusion to be drawn and only one thing to be done about it,” he said, giving the prince a stern look and willing him to listen to reason. “And as Prince Regent, you must do it. All you’re doing is staving off the inevitable.”

“Unless I find something to prove Prompto’s innocence,” Noctis countered stubbornly, turning fully to his desk to spread the papers out on it.

“And if there’s nothing to be found?” he challenged. Noctis stopped, freezing mid-movement. Ignis continued to press. Because like it or not, the prince had to see reason. Even if it was painful. “Will you still pardon him, simply because he’s your friend?”

“Of course not!” Noctis exploded - or as close as he usually came to it considering his withdrawn nature. Even now, angry as he clearly was, he wasn’t really shouting. At least not compared to what other people would consider a proper shout. His frustration couldn’t be more obvious, though. “Don’t you think I’m aware of what I’ll have to do to him if I can’t find anything?”

“I know you know,” Ignis replied with a nod. “I’m merely reminding you that you don’t have much of a choice in the matter. He is a criminal, Noct. As much as it may pain you to do it, you must see and treat him as one. Even if he was once your friend.”

“Whoa, wait, back up,” Noct said with a frown. “You don’t honestly believe he’s guilty, do you?” he asked. Ignis’s expression must have given him all the answer he needed, though, because the prince groaned before dropping his face into his hand in exasperation. “I thought you were supposed to be smart,” he muttered and Ignis couldn’t stop himself from floundering mentally, just a little, at the slight. Outwardly, he merely narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips in offended displeasure.

“I beg your pardon, Highness?” he asked, his tone just a little bit clipped.

“I said, I thought you were supposed to be smart,” Noctis repeated, as if he truly believed Ignis hadn’t heard him the first time. The prince sighed and leaned back against the desk, resting one hand on it while the other rubbed at his forehead. “Let me get this straight. You actually believe Prompto managed to kill a highly skilled Crownsguard and Kingsglaive operative. Prompto, who we both know trips over his own two feet every five steps, has never shot anything outside a video game and hasn’t had any combat training.”

“As far as we know,” Ignis pointed out sharply, but Noctis only rolled his eyes in reply.

“Right. So let’s say he pulled wool over our eyes. He’s skilled enough to actually kill a highly ranked member of the Crownsguard and Kingsglaive two-on-one yet managed to hide it well enough that neither me, nor you, nor _Gladio_ ever managed to catch on. Then he used those incredible acting skills to catch our two victims off guard and the tremendous fighting skills to kill them. Yet he was not stealthy enough and was pursued, only to be caught despite the skill he had, otherwise he would have never managed to kill them in the first place. Last but not least, he’s dragged in front of me, the prince and his best friend, whom he’s already fooled once into believing he’s harmless when he’s actually not, and proceeds to give me a story that does absolutely nothing to prove his innocence or to give him any sort of alibi, thus giving me nothing to go on to avoid executing him.” Noctis pauses once he’s done with that recap and the look he’s giving Ignis is nothing short of flat. “You cannot tell me any of that makes any sense to you.”

Ignis had to admit, put together like this, Noct had a point. There was no way, logically speaking, that Prompto could have been the killer. And yet, as the prince himself pointed out, he was a suspect by virtue of having been caught in the vicinity, he had the murder weapon on him and he had no alibi.

This was truly a conundrum. And clearly one the prince wasn’t about to just sweep under the rug. Not that Ignis could blame him. Even without considering Prompto being Noct’s - and Ignis’s - friend, condemning him without looking into it would be wrong. He sighed.

“What exactly did you have in mind?” he relented, though he doubted Noct actually had some kind of plan. Though the prince had proven himself rather capable today, Ignis knew that foresight was not one of his strong suits.

Unfortunately, Noct did not disappoint.

“I’m not sure. But whatever we do, we have to do it in the time limit we have,” he said, looking up at Ignis again. “Which you have still to tell me, by the way. How long can we reasonably put this off before the Council pushes for a verdict?”

“Not long,” Ignis admitted with a put-upon sigh. “I would guess no longer than two or three days.”

“Then we better get to it.”

* * *

Ignis’ prediction that they might not find anything was, unfortunately, proving correct. Not that it was much of a surprise, as much as Noct hated to admit it. The problem was, there was just nothing to go on.

The only thing Prompto’s story could be used for was to retrace his steps from the day of the incident. Which didn’t help much. Noct could confirm his friend had been at school that day and he could confirm he’d stayed behind when Noct left, but he couldn’t confirm how long he’d stayed in the school. They could follow Prompto’s account and go to the soup kitchen next, but again, there was no one to confirm or deny that the blond had been there. It was the same at the park where he got caught. The only place where his presence had been confirmed was his workplace, but it was also confirmed he barely stayed there five minutes after being late because he’d been fired.

None of it actually helped in any way.

Noctis eventually got the idea to go to Prompto’s old house and try to find his landlady, to ask her if he’s really been evicted and when. He had hoped that if he got a confirmation, he could then try to find a way to prove that Prompto had had no way to get his hands on a gun, much less the one like the murder weapon. And while it was indeed confirmed that Prompto had been kicked out for not paying rent when he said he had (a fact he and Noct would have a _very_ long talk about once the prince managed to get the blond out of this entire mess in one, living piece), Ignis was quick to point out that it didn’t actually prove anything. In pure theory, Prompto could have procured the gun at an earlier point. In fact, though the advisor had clearly been uncomfortable to say so, he might have used his savings to get the weapon and been evicted as a result when he had nothing left to pay rent with.

It wasn’t a thought Noct liked to entertain. But whether he liked it or not, the fact remained that it was a valid possibility.

The first two days passed like this, with the prince using every spare minute he could between all his other duties - which he unfortunately couldn’t neglect no matter how much he might want to - to try and find something to prove Prompto’s innocence. Ignis and Gladio tried to help, but they hardly had any more of an idea how to proceed than he did. There just really wasn’t anything to be found or to be done as far as they could tell. 

Most of the third (and last) day available to them was similar, much to Noct’s despair. Tomorrow, he’d have to pass his judgment. And as things were, he had nothing to show for the delay. He truly had just postponed the inevitable and unless a miracle happened… he’d have to sentence his best friend to death.

The mere thought of it made him nauseous, not that he’d admit it. It also made him desperate, because no matter how well he understood he’d have to do it, it didn’t mean he _wanted to_. Sure, his and Prompto’s friendship might have taken a hit these past couple of months because the blond didn’t understand the difference between ‘attempting to use the prince for his money and/or status’ and ‘asking a friend for help because he actually very much needed it’, but they were still friends and Noct still cared and did not want to see Prompto dead, much less by his own order thank you very much.

Not that that changed the fact that it was the most likely outcome all things considered.

“It’s getting late. We should return to the Citadel,” Ignis said at length. They were in the park where Prompto had been arrested again. Somehow, they always ended up in this place, as if it would hold any answers even though it hadn’t before.

“No,” Noctis replied immediately, shaking his head. “Not yet.” He refused to give up. They still had time. Only one night, maybe, but there was still time. He’d be damned if he didn’t make the most of it somehow. There had to be something they could yet do. Something they’d missed. There _had to be_!

Ignis and Gladio looked at him with what could only be pity in their eyes. Noctis hated that. He didn’t need to be pitied. He looked away.

“Look… Noct,” Gladio eventually spoke up slowly, tone oddly careful like he was trying not to rile him up. Which in the current situation only achieved the opposite as the young prince’s irritation spiked at the apparent coddling. “We don’t like this anymore than you do. I don’t want to see him killed, either, whether he’s guilty or not.”

“He isn’t.”

“But you have to accept that we did all we could,” the Shield continued as if Noct hadn’t interrupted him. “We tried. Now we need to get ready for what we should have done from the beginning.”

Like Hell. No way. Ignis and Gladio might both be giving up and to be honest, Noct wasn’t sure if that was because they truly believed Prompto to be guilty, or because they tried to tell themselves he was so the idea of condemning him would be easier. Either way, they were accepting defeat. Noctis wouldn’t stand for that. Not yet. There was still time.

“There is one more place we could check out,” he said, gaze already trained in the general direction of where he was determined to go, even if he knew, logically, that there would be nothing to be found there, either. It had been too long already.

“Where are you thinking of?” Ignis asked indulgently, though not without a tired sigh which Noctis chose to pretend he didn’t hear.

“The scene of the crime.”

“And what, pray tell, do you think you’ll find there?” Gladio challenged immediately, crossing his arms over his chest. “Not only has it been way too long already, you really think the professionals who have combed through the place would have missed something you’ll happen to find?” Well, he had a point there, much as Noctis hated to admit it. But still. It was the only place they haven’t looked. Their last chance, flimsy as it was. Noctis was not willing to give up on it without trying. Even if he logically knew it wouldn’t lead to anything.

“No! Damn it, don’t you think I know that?!” Noctis couldn’t help but explode, his desperation turning to sheer and utter frustration that quickly boiled over. “But it’s the last chance I have. There’s nothing beyond that.”

“It’s not even a chance, Noct,” Gladio said sternly, but not unkindly. He was trying to make him see reason, probably. “It would just be a waste of time and we all know that.”

“I’m not asking either of you to come with me, am I?” Noctis bit back, glaring at his Shield. “Maybe you guys are fine with giving up like this but I’m not.” Yeah, it might not lead to anything. It probably won’t. But at least he’ll be able to tell himself he’d truly tried everything. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t do at least that much. Prompto deserved that and so much more.

Noctis wasn’t going to give up on him. He couldn’t. Prompto was his friend. His only real, true friend without any strings attached. It didn’t mean Ignis and Gladio weren’t his friends as well, of course. They were. But unlike Prompto, they were also tied to him by duty. They were his advisor and his Shield respectively. Even if they weren’t his friends, they would still have to stand by his side. Because that was their duty, their job.

 _He_ was their job.

He tried not to think about it most of the time. He tried to tell himself it didn’t matter. Duty or not, they were his friends. They cared for him as more than a prince, more than a royal they needed to serve.

But it was still different with Prompto. Because with Prompto, Noctis didn’t have to try and push such thoughts away. Prompto didn’t care he was royalty. He didn’t care about him because he was royalty or because he was supposed to. He cared because they were friends and that was literally the only reason.

Ignis and Gladio cared for both ‘Prince Noctis’ and ‘Noct’. But Prompto only cared for ‘Noct’ and as much as he’d never admit it to his friends’ faces, Noctis could admit to himself that it _did_ make a difference.

He would already be unwilling to give up on Ignis or Gladio in this kind of situation. But Prompto? He couldn’t possibly give up without trying everything in his power to help him, no matter how unlikely it was to actually get him results.

Gladio must have seen the determined stubbornness in his eyes, because his shoulders dropped and he heaved a deep sigh. Ignis pushed up his glasses again and gave Noctis a long look.

“Lead the way, then,” he said, and although he made no move to indicate anything and his tone was the same as any other time when he gave in to Noctis’ whims, the prince understood the message behind the words clearly enough.

‘We won’t leave you alone in this.’

Noctis sighed, his tense posture relaxing as he gave the two a brief, thankful look. Then he nodded and turned on his heel, marching off purposefully in the general direction of where he knew the crime scene to be. Truthfully, he didn’t know where exactly it was, but that hardly mattered. Ignis would likely correct him and direct him the right way if necessary. (Though he would just as certainly tease him about not knowing where to go.)

True to Noctis’ predictions, Ignis was quick to start directing him where to go, much to Gladio’s incessant amusement. For once, however, Noctis didn’t rise to his Shield’s bait as the man tried to rile him up. He wasn’t really listening. Something nagged at him as they walked. Something felt increasingly odd, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was.

It took him a moment to realize that was partly due to the fact that the feeling came and went. It was there, then it was gone, then came back again. Each time it did, it became stronger, though it was still a good five minutes of walking before Noctis truly caught on to what it was.

Magic. He was sensing magic.

It was a feeling he still wasn’t quite used to. Not to feeling it or recognizing it, much less seeking it out. It had started fairly recently, a few months into his magic training. He wasn’t sure whether or not that was normal, if his father could sense magic this way and had just never told him about it. Noctis didn’t really talk much about magic with his father.

Well, to be perfectly honest, Noctis didn’t talk much with his father about much of anything lately, considering they almost never saw each other. The rare times they did, it was as Prince and King, rather than father and son more often than not.

Still, while partly foreign, Noctis was getting used to the feeling and he knew it meant there was someplace with concentrated, magical energy nearby. An energy deposit, as he’d started to call them, since he usually found odd containers almost glowing with elemental energy whenever he followed it. This felt different, though. It was warm, but not as warm as fire tended to be. It prickled at him, but not in the same manner lightning did. And despite its warmth, there was a cool after-feel to it, but not nearly as cold as he’d come to expect of ice.

But if it wasn’t any of the three elements, what was it then? He didn’t think there were any others. The only offensive spells he’d ever heard of were of those three elements.

Intrigued, Noctis veered in the direction of the feeling when it nagged at the back of his mind again, stronger than the previous times once more. Ignis and Gladio called after him at the sudden change of direction, but he didn’t answer them, too focused on trying to locate the source of the magic he could sense. It led him down into the maze of small, dark alleyways that could as well be a labyrinth. It made finding the source that much harder, because while Noctis could sense which direction it was in, that didn’t mean he knew how to get there.

As he got close, however, another source brushed against his senses. He stopped and frowned, looking in the direction he could feel it. It felt stronger than the one he’d been following, but also further away. It was hard to predict which one would be easier to find.

“Noct, where do you think you’re going?” Gladio asked gruffly, though with slight, teasing amusement coloring his tone. “You got lost or what? The place we wanna get to is that way,” he said, pointing in pretty much the opposite direction than the one Noctis was heading it. The prince frowned.

“I know. It’s just… I can sense magic in this direction. But it feels weird. Not like any of the three elements,” he said, finally deciding to just try and find the first source he’d locked on to. It was closer anyway. Ignis and Gladio followed silently, though only for a moment.

“What are you talking about, Noct?” Ignis questioned, and though Noctis didn’t look back at him to check, he could almost hear the frown in his voice.

“I don’t know. I just told you, it feels weird. I don’t know what it is.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Ignis replied. “What do you mean you’re sensing magic?”

This time, Noctis turned to look at him. The advisor started back with a thoughtful and slightly confused frown. Noctis scowled back.

“Exactly what I said,” he replied. “What, is that weird or something?” It wouldn’t be the first time Noctis’ magic was being weird. He always had problems with it. Warping was a nightmare to learn, he couldn’t cast spells no matter how hard he tried and even pulling things from the Arminger was sometimes far more difficult than he thought it had any right to be. He didn’t even know why it was so difficult. Ignis supposed once it might have to do with his old injury, but Noctis wasn’t so sure. It was just as likely that he just wasn’t good enough, that he was lacking.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

“I’ve never heard of anyone being able to sense magic,” Ignis replied carefully, still studying Noct. “Gladio, did your father ever mention anything of the sort to you? I imagine as a Shield you would have better chances of being informed of something like this.”

Gladio merely shook his head. Ignis’s frown deepened.

“Noct, are you absolutely certain—”

“I know what I’m sensing,” Noctis interrupted him, despite the fact that it wasn’t quite true. He knew it was magic, yes, but he couldn’t tell what kind. Still, Ignis met his gaze levelly and, after a few seconds, nodded.

“Very well. Lead the way, Noct.”

It was easier said than done with the way the alleyways twisted and turned this way and that. The fact that several more sources of that same, odd magic popped up as they walked wasn’t helping, either. It was confusing and made it difficult to focus on any one source enough to actually find it, but eventually, Noctis managed to pin one down and reach it.

Except there was nothing there. No deposit, no magical glow, no anything. Just a dark, empty alley. Noctis scowled.

“I don’t get it. It should be here,” he muttered under his breath, feeling the source literally right in front of his face and yet not seeing anything. Tentatively, he reached out and focused on it, like he’s been taught to do in order to cast a spell, but nothing happened. Predictably.

His focus made him hone in better on the other sources of magic, however, and he suddenly realized they weren’t quite as randomly placed as he originally thought. One was literally straight ahead. The next one, further in a similar direction, but off to the right a bit. Several more in the opposite direction, winding to the left and right at growing distance. Noctis frowned and continued onward, to the next closest source ahead of him. Then the next after that, just down the next alley to the right. Then another, further down. Another just past a corner. On and on it went, though they grew weaker with each one.

“We’re almost at the scene of the crime,” Ignis spoke up suddenly. “Though we took a bit of a detour to get there.”

“Or maybe someone took a detour getting away,” Noctis said quietly.

“What are you talking about?” Gladio asked with narrowed eyes.

“Well… usually I can tell what element I’m sensing. But this doesn’t feel like any one of them in particular. It feels a little bit like all of them. But if it’s not any of the three elements, what other kind of magic is there? Especially one that would feel like all of them combined?”

“The Crystal’s magic, perhaps?” Ignis inquired carefully, though his frown was a dark one. “What are you implying, Noct.”

“Well, if it is the Crystal’s magic, then…” he said before trailing off, unsure how to convey what he’s thinking. “I mean they form a path of sorts. A trail. They’re in pairs, two sources in a straight line from each other. If I’m to assume it’s the Crystal’s magic, then it’s like…” he trailed off again, uncertain, but ultimately couldn’t think of any other possible explanation. “Like someone was warping.”

He couldn’t be certain, of course. He never really saw anyone else warp and even if he had, he wouldn’t be focusing on the feel of it, he’d be too busy trying to replicate. But he knew the theory and from there, it was the only conclusion to be drawn.

“Warping?” Gladio repeated with a raised eyebrow, arms crossed over his chest. He didn’t seem to believe it any more than Noct expected him to. He couldn't blame him, though. He was skeptical himself. Despite that, he nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, turning around to glance back towards the other source of magic he could sense, straight ahead. “One source where the magic took hold. Where the warp started,” he pointed out, motioning for his two retainers to stay in place while he walked back to the previous source of magic. “And one where it ended,” he said, coming to a stop right where he felt the magic the strongest and turning back around. It was in a clear, straight line from the previous one, and about the distance he would expect from a warp considering the restricted space. Any further and the person warping risked slamming into the wall at the end of the alley.

“Who would be warping here, though?” Ignis questioned as he pushed his glasses up his nose. His gaze was sharp though. Calculating. “The only ones who can do that are you, the King and the Glaives. And the only Glaive here was the one who got killed, so he wouldn’t have been warping anywhere.”

“Unless he was warping to get here, maybe,” Gladio pointed out in a rough tone. “He could have heard the commotion first and warped there to see what was happening.”

“The first source Noctis found was quite a ways away from here. And the path we’ve followed is quite convoluted. I find it hard to believe that a Glaive intent on investigating a commotion he heard would waste time warping down alleyways when warping to a roof and going in a straight line is much faster. That, and our other accounts suggest the two victims have been together long before coming to the place they got killed. So the Glaive wouldn’t have needed to warp to the scene of the crime, he was already there,” the advisor countered immediately. Noctis frowned at him.

“What are you saying, Ignis?” he questioned, although he was pretty sure he already had an idea.

“I think that, rather than a trail leading _to_ the scene of the crime,” Ignis stated gravely, never looking away from Noctis as he spoke, “it’s one leading away from it.”

Neither Noctis nor Gladio said anything to that assumptions. There wasn’t really much to be said. It was preposterous all things considered. Because it would mean that there had been another Glaive at the scene and that rather than helping, they had run away.

Unless…

“You can’t be serious,” Gladio huffed in irritation. “Are you saying someone among the Glaives killed those two? Do you even realize what kind of an accusation you’re throwing out there, Ignis?”

“I’m not accusing anyone of anything,” Ignis said calmly, though his voice was steely. “I’m merely sharing my thoughts and observations on the matter.” Which was really just a flowery way of saying that yes, he was very much suspecting a second Glaive to be involved. Noctis suppressed a shudder. He did not like the implications of that, should it prove to be true.

“It’s not like we can verify that, though,” Gladio muttered, clearly still irked and uncomfortable. “Unless Prince Charmless here can pinpoint whose magic it is,” he added, looking to Noct. The prince shook his head.

“It doesn’t work that way,” he said as he walked over back to his retainers. “I just sense the energy. I can’t sense who cast the spell.” Or warped, in this case. He glared down the alley towards where he knew the scene of the crime was. “Let’s check this place out since we’re already here,” he decided. “And once we’re done with that—” he turned to look back the way they’ve come “—then we’ll follow this trail and see where it leads.”

“Sounds reasonable enough,” Ignis agreed with a nod. Gladio’s scowl deepened, but he nodded as well and together, the three of them turned towards the end of the alley, where the slightly bigger street where the bodies had been found was.

* * *

As expected, they didn’t find much at the scene of the crime itself, though Noctis informed them he felt a few more sources of magic around the area. They were weak, though, and scattered all over, so it was hard to parse what they had been caused by.

Following the trail of warps didn’t turn out to be that lucrative at first glance, either. Thought it winded this way and that and sometimes seemed to turn blindly down the streets, the trail didn’t lead them to anything special. Just a park bench in the very park they’ve been to countless times before, close to where they’ve started off just an hour or so ago.

Interestingly, the warp points grew stronger and easier to sense the further they’ve gone from the scene of the crime, though it was harder to pick them out at the park itself due to more elemental energies being there in general, or at least that was what Noct told them when prompted. He wasn’t able to tell why the sources of magic grew stronger the way they have, but he admitted it seemed odd to him. Ignis frowned, sorting through the limited information and trying to make sense of it. The picture it painted, however, wasn’t a pleasant one.

“There’s no signs of magic past this point? You’re certain?” Gladio prodded again. Noctis huffed in frustration and shook his head.

“No. Not as far as I can tell. The trail ends here.”

“In the park where Prompto was arrested.”

“He did mention getting up from a bench and then being shoved over,” Ignis reminded, taking a closer look at the piece of public furniture. Of course, it was unlikely any trace of Prompto’s potential fall would be there, but it didn’t hurt to check.

Unfortunately, Ignis came away from the inspection empty, as expected.

“Yeah. And it’s not like he can warp,” Noctis said with a scowl, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at nothing in particular. “So that must have been someone else.”

“But the Crownsguard who caught him thought he was the only one here,” Gladio pointed out in a low growl. “So either they were lying or they didn’t see anyone else.”

“They didn’t mention the criminal they pursued being able to warp, either,” Ignis added with a thoughtful frown. It was odd. Suspicious, even. One would think that the fact the person trying to escape them could warp was an obvious detail that needed to be mentioned.

“They might have not seen it,” Noctis muttered, eyes trained on the ground in thought. “The sources I’ve felt… the starting one was usually right behind a corner or something else that could briefly hide him the any pursuers’ line of sight.”

“They would have realized they were being outrun at an unnatural pace, though.”

“Unless they assumed he was just a fast runner. Besides, I doubt he didn’t slow down at some point. Warping is just about the most draining use of magic there is.”

“The Glaives don’t seem to agree with you on that one.”

“Who among them? Those who’ve already mastered the skill or those who still can’t do it or who get nauseous and puke their guts out after two warps?”

“In any case,” Ignis interrupted before the building argument could bring them further away from what they actually needed to discuss. “Unfortunate as it is, this doesn’t help us in proving Prompto’s innocence whatsoever.”

“What?!” Noctis turned to him immediately at those words, eyes wide and an angry scowl on his face. “What are you saying? We just agreed that someone else must have been at the scene and warped away from it! Prompto _can’t_ warp!”

“But we don’t have any actual proof of it,” Ignis replied calmly, willing the prince to calm himself and think this through logically. “Think about it, Noct. How would you prove that there was warping going on in this area? There isn’t any proof of it except the traces of magic which _you_ seem to be the only one capable of sensing. The Crownsguard certainly haven’t or they would have mentioned it, don’t you think?” Unless they were involved in this somehow, but Ignis did not want to jump to that conclusion too quickly. It was a possibility to consider, yes, but it wouldn’t do to get too lost in suspicions. It was bad enough that someone capable of warping, which could only be a Glaive, seemed to be implicated in this issue.

Noctis didn’t answer for a moment. After a few seconds, though, he deflated and his shoulders dropped. The look he directed ad Ignis then was one the advisor hadn’t seen on his face in a long time. It was the look of someone who had no idea what to do, of someone in desperate need of guidance. A lost, desperate look that didn’t fit in Noctis’ eyes at all, that should never be there.

“What do we do then?” he asked quietly, and he sounded more vulnerable and uncertain than Ignis had ever heard him. It was only then that it really occurred to him just how much stress the prince must be under due to all of this. Not only because of all the responsibilities resting on his shoulders while he was effectively reigning as Prince Regent, but also because of the fact that Prompto was his friend.

An innocent friend whom Noctis might have to sentence to death for a crime he, Ignis was certain now, did not commit simply because there was no proof to say otherwise. An innocent friend whose blood may stain Noctis’ hands simply because he happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. An innocent friend who, by all accounts, had needed his help long before now and had never even thought to ask for it.

The first (and only) friend Noct had made outside the Citadel.

Ignis liked to think he understood Noct better than anyone. He’d known him nearly all his life, after all. They’ve grown up together. If anyone understood Noctis, he thought, it would be him.

But at the same time, there were times Ignis just had no idea what could possibly be going through Noctis’ head. His determination to gain some extra time to try and prove Prompto’s innocence had been one such time. And now, as much as Ignis hated to admit it, was likely another.

Because how could he possibly claim to know how Noctis felt about all this when he’d never experienced anything similar? True, he might know the burden of responsibility. He might know what it was like to hold someone’s life in one’s hands and what it was like for that life to belong to a friend, the recurring assassination attempts had seen to that. But this was different.

He’d always held Noctis’ life in his hands when it was in danger with the full intention of doing his utmost to save him.

Noctis just might have to do the opposite. Instead of saving a life, he just may have to indirectly take one. Even if he wasn’t the executioner, he’d be the one giving orders. That made the blood stain his hands as much as it would the executioner’s axe.

How could Ignis even begin to comprehend how that felt?

The answer was simple: he couldn’t. And he hated it.

“We’ll return to the Citadel and get some rest, all three of us,” he decided finally after a moment of thought. Noctis’ eyes widened and he opened his mouth. Sensing an upcoming denial and insistence that they needed to do something, Ignis immediately raised a hand to forestall him and moved on. “The meeting with the Council isn’t until the beginning of the afternoon. I’ll clear your schedule for the morning and we’ll use that time to try and think of something with clearer heads. Either way, there’s nothing else to be done or found here. We cannot change the fact that we don’t have proof. But if we take the time to think about it calmly, there may yet be a way to save Prompto.” If he was perfectly honest, Ignis didn’t truly believe that. The odds were just stacked too much against it as things were. But Noctis needed to hear some kind of reassurance, he needed to keep some hope at least for right now. Otherwise, he would break under the pressure. Ignis hadn’t noticed before how high strung the prince was, but he could see it now.

“Iggy’s right,” Gladio agreed and clapped Noctis on the shoulder. “There’s nothing else we can do here. And we won’t come up with any plan of action in our current state. You won’t come up with anything. You need to rest, Noct.”

“Fine,” the prince relented after another minute or so of thought, shoulders dropping. He clearly didn’t like it, but at least he agreed to listen to them. Ignis was glad. While it was true that they all needed their rest, it was all the more true for Noctis. Now that he had let his guard drop a bit, that there was truly nothing else to be done, the determination to keep going clearly left him and he looked nothing short of exhausted. Ignis couldn’t help but feel worry twist his gut at the sight, as well as guilt. How could he have not noticed before how hard Noctis was pushing himself?

“Let us return to the Citadel, then,” Ignis said, none of his worry or guilt detectable in his tone. Noctis only nodded again and remained silent.

* * *

Noctis didn’t look much better the following day. If anything, he looked even more exhausted and desolate. Gladio couldn’t help but wonder if he’d even slept at all. Which would usually be a stupid question to ask. The prince was known for being able to sleep literally anywhere, any time so long as he got the chance, after all.

This wasn’t a usual situation, however, and Noct really didn’t look like he’d gotten any sleep at all.

It wasn’t even that he was nodding off. He wasn’t, though it would have been more normal if he did. But he was pale, with deep shadows under his eyes and a look of pure exhaustion on his face that revealed more than anything else just how unwell he was.

And the worst part of it was that Gladio had no idea how to help. Because there wasn’t anything he could do. This wasn’t as simple a matter as forcing Noct to sleep (which he normally wouldn’t have to even think of doing) or otherwise take care of himself. This wasn’t about protecting him from an assassin or a drunk idiot who lashed out under the influence of alcohol. This was not something Gladio could protect Noct from at all, period. All he could do was try to support him, which admittedly was part of his job as a Shield, too.

He just didn’t know how to do that, either. That was more Ignis’s expertise, but he seemed as stumped as Gladio was.

Their morning meeting didn’t lead to much, either. Ultimately, there was little any of them could do without proof. Noctis may be the prince, but even he couldn’t be expected to be able to just say that he felt remnants of warping magic in the area and have people believe him. It would be too convenient and not much of a proof since it seemed he was the only one to be able to sense magic in the first place. Gladio had asked his father about it the previous night. Asked if King Regis had ever mentioned or shown signs of being able to sense magic.

“No,” his father had replied, a deep frown on his face as he considered Gladio’s question. “Why would he need to sense it? Before the creation of the Kingsglaive, the royal family was the only one to be able to truly use it. What need would he have to sense his own magic?”

It was a fair question and it begged the reflection on why Noctis could do it when his father could not. Because while it had certainly come in handy last night - assuming that hadn’t just been Noctis’ tired mind playing tricks on him - there still didn’t seem to be much use to the ability. Sure, Noctis’ was about as successful in magic training when it came to casting spells as when it came to warping (although he’d only started the elemental spell work recently, so he could get a pass on that), but how would that connect to being able to sense sources of magical energy?

It was a thought to pursue another time, however. For now, Gladio had the choice of believing it really was something Noctis could do and believing his prince, in his desperation to find something to help his friend, had hallucinated the entire thing.

Needless to say, he chose the former, if only because he couldn’t possibly believe Noct would make something like this up. It wasn’t his style and he hadn’t been acting like it was the first time he sensed magic. Exhausted or not, desperate or not, that had not been an act. So if Noctis said he could sense magic, then however he was able to do it or whatever the reason for it was, Gladio believed him.

Not that it changed much in the long run. Just because Ignis and Gladio believed him didn’t mean anyone else would. The Council sure as Hell wouldn’t. Most of them already looked down at Noctis for being young and inexperienced, expecting someone easy to manipulate. If he came out with a story like that, it could only end up badly for him in the long run.

And yet what choice did he have? It was that or stay quiet and meekly accept that he’d have to execute Prompto.

It was obvious to anyone with eyes that he wouldn’t do that, though. Not so long as there was even one thing, no matter how small or unlikely to work that he could try.

Which was how they’d ended up here, in the hearing chamber once again, with Prompto forced to his knees before the throne. Noctis sat in his father’s place with his elbows resting on the armrests and leaning forward a bit, his chin on his hands. He was staring at Prompto (and everyone else in the room) impassively and coldly. If Gladio didn’t know any better, he’d have thought him detached and apathetic, but the tension in his frame spoke otherwise. He managed to hide his exhaustion surprisingly well, though, to the point that even Gladio wouldn’t have been able to guess it was there if he hadn’t seen him with his guard lowered before.

Still, the prince was struggling to hold himself together. But hold he did. He had no other choice.

Gladio wished he could support him, like he knew his father supported King Regis in such situations, but he couldn’t say he knew how. He’d been trained a protector, a warrior. That didn’t make him an uncultured brute by any means, of course. He was still a noble. But he didn’t know how to offer his support to Noct in a way that would be obvious to him and only to him in a situation such as this.

It was in moments like these that Gladio could grudgingly admit that Noctis wasn’t the only one not yet ready to take on the full mantle of responsibility awaiting him. Gladio had much to learn about being a proper Shield, one that could protect as well as support his King, too.

“Argentum,” Noctis said finally into the silence of the room, voice carrying a power to it Gladio has only very seldomly heard. He sounded like a prince. Like a king, even.

It was too bad the Council didn’t seem impressed by it. As for Prompto, he actually flinched at the sound of Noctis’ voice. Gladio’s glanced at the prince again. If the blond’s reaction affected him at all - and it probably had, it would be foolish to expect otherwise - he didn’t show it.

“Yes, Noc… Your… Highness?” Prompto stuttered, more to the floor than the prince himself.

“You told Us you were shoved aside by someone in the park before the Crownsguard arrested you,” Noctis stated, rather than asked. A small wave of whispers passed through the Council, but no one dared interrupt. Still, Gladio blinked and glanced at Noctis at the ‘royal We’. He didn’t usually speak like that. In fact, the Shield knew he hated it and with good reason. The fact that he was using it now, though, proved all the more how determined he was to see it through to the end. To try his damnest to convince the Council.

They had to take him seriously if he kept reminding them who was in charge, young or not.

“Yes…” Prompto replied, his tone quiet and a bit confused. He didn’t look up.

“Did you hear them approach?” Noctis asked next, eyes trained on the blond. Gladio pursed his lips. He wouldn’t want to have Noct look at him like this. Like a royal looking down at his subjects. Sure, at the core of it, that’s what they were. Prince and Shield. Royal and vassal. But beyond that, they were friends.

So were Noctis and Prompto. And Prompto likely had no idea of the lengths Noctis was going through for him here. He had no way of knowing.

Gladio felt bad for the kid, if he was being honest.

“I’m… sorry?” the blond asked, slowly daring to look up. He looked resigned, like he’d given up already, but there was also confusion in his gaze.

“Did you hear them approach?” Noctis repeated with patience that might seem surprising to anyone looking at him right now. With the stern look on his face, one would think patience was just about the last thing he was willing to exercise. “Hear their footsteps as they ran? The crunch of gravel under their feet? Anything at all?”

“I…” Prompto frowned, seeming to try and think back. He bit his lip, then shook his head. “I… don’t think so. Your Highness.”

“And what about the Crownsguard who arrested you?”

“I’m… not sure. As I said, I think I hit my head. I don’t… really remember much past being shoved except the way I’ve been pinned to the ground afterwards…”

“With all due respect, Your Highness,” one of the council members cut in before anything else could be asked. “What is the meaning of this? This is not a hearing. We’re here to pass judgment on the criminal are we not?”

“We’re here to see to it that justice is served,” Noctis agreed with a slow nod, his eyes moving to the councilman who addressed him. “But only towards the actual criminal.”

Another wave of murmurs rose in the air at that. Prompto gaped from where he was kneeling on the floor. Gladio didn’t blame him for the reaction. He was sure most of the council would have loved to react the same at the audacious words.

This was it. This was where their - where Noctis’ - last stand on the matter truly began.

Their last chance to prove Prompto innocent.

It was a risky move. If it failed, there would be major backlash to Noctis himself. The prince knew that. Ignis knew that. Gladio knew that.

They went ahead with it anyway.

“What are you saying, Your Highness?” the councilman asked stiffly. Noctis straightened and raised one hand slightly, motioning for his advisor.

“Ignis, if you would.”

“Certainly, Highness,” Ignis replied with a bow before stepping forward with a small binder in hand. “Due to the accused’s account, His Highness has deemed it necessary to look a bit more into the matter, despite all the time that has already elapsed. Interestingly, we have found something at the scene of the crime and the vicinity. Something that hasn’t been mentioned by any account of what happened: signs of warping.”

“What signs of warping? Warping doesn’t leave any traces,” Drautos, the Captain of the Glaives, was quick to point out. Which made sense given he was the only one here besides Noctis who could really pass any judgment.

“It leaves traces of magic, Captain, as any use of magic does,” Noctis informed him coldly. “Traces which We are able to sense.” And here came the most difficult part: convincing everyone of that in a way that was believable.

“Sensing magic?” Drautos repeated, raising an incredulous eyebrow. He wasn’t the only one who clearly didn’t believe the prince’s words. Other council members were also whispering amongst each other and exchanging glances. “That is preposterous!” Drautos exclaimed. Gladio’s jaw clenched and he was about to speak up in Noctis’ defense when the prince beat him to it.

“You would accuse Us of lying?” he asked. Silence immediately descended within the room, no council member willing to make as much as a peep at the question. Hoping to manipulate the young, inexperienced Regent that Noctis was, was one thing. Openly calling him a liar, however, was quite another.

“Of course not, Your Highness,” another member of the council finally spoke smoothly. “However, even if what you say is correct, what is there to be surprised about? One of the victims was a Glaive and every Glaive can warp. Surely the traces of magic you may have sensed could have been from the confrontation with the criminal and nothing else,” he said, and it wasn’t a question. It was an attempt at an explanation, a thinly veiled challenge. Gladio glared at the man for daring to even think of questioning Noctis’ credibility or judgment. He was their prince and, currently, the prince regent. They were supposed to follow him, not challenge him every step of the way and make him question himself. Noct didn’t need that. He questioned himself enough as it was.

“Ah, but you see,” Ignis spoke up smoothly when Noctis motioned towards him again, “the traces of warping we’ve found haven’t been merely at the scene of the crime itself. In fact, most of them led away from it, and, interestingly, towards the very park where Mr. Argentum was apprehended. And correct me if I’m wrong, but Mr. Argentum here isn’t part of the Glaive. As such, warping isn’t a skill he possesses, is it.” Silence descended upon the room at Ignis’s words. Prompto was staring at the three of them, eyes wide and shiny. He’d closed his mouth by now and his lower lip was trembling, but he didn’t make so much as a peep. Ignis looked out at the assembled council members for a moment, but when no one spoke up to contest his words, he went on, pulling a small map of the general area of where the murder happened out of his binder. “Furthermore, I took the liberty of speaking to the Crownsguard members responsible for apprehending Mr. Argentum,” he said. Noctis glanced at him sharply at that, but said nothing and gave no other indication of not having expected it. He should have, Gladio thought. Ignis was nothing if not meticulous. Of course he would have seen to every last possible detail they might need.

“Of course, it would be impossible to expect them to remember the exact route they went following after the murderer considering the circumstances. However, they have been able to confirm for me that, until they came out onto the main street next to the park and then into it, the criminal has mostly stuck to the deserted back alleys,” Ignis continued. “That, combined with the other testimonies, allowed me to predict a possible route that might have been taken. If you would take a look, gentlemen.” Ignis stepped past Prompto and into center of the room, presenting the map as best he could to the whole council considering there was no table to lay it out on. No one had expected one to be necessary for this kind of thing, after all. “The route showed in red right here is the most likely one taken if it was indeed Mr. Argentum who did the deed. Relatively straight-forward, though sticking to the back alleys. A bit long to manage in the allotted time, certainly, but nothing an accustomed runner couldn’t manage and a renewed investigation of Mr. Argetum’s background effectively confirms he fits the description.

“The route depicted in blue is the actual route that seems to have been taken, according to the traces of warping. As you can see, it is far more convoluted and slightly longer, more suited to someone actively trying to shake off pursuers, rather than getting from one specific place to another. It is a bit too long for a mere runner to manage in the guessed time frame between the beginning of the pursuit and the capture of Mr. Argentum, but if one were to assume warping had been in play to help the escapee gain a few seconds after a turn, then it’s certainly a plausible route to take.”

Once again, silence. The members of the council looked at each other, exchanged glances and a few murmured words, but no one contested Ignis’s findings. Alright. So far so good. It seemed like all this just might work out without too much trouble.

“This is preposterous!”

Damn it, Gladio had spoken too soon. Even if it was only mentally. He frowned and glanced at Drautos, who was once again the one raising objections. Ignis didn’t answer him, merely snapping his binder closed and returning to his side at Noctis’ right.

“Do you realize what you’re insinuating with these accusations?” the captain continued, stepping into the center of the room which Ignis had vacated. (Although Prompto was still being held in place, getting a first row seat to the entire fiasco. With any luck, in a few weeks’ time, he’d be able to just laugh it all off with them. Gladio certainly hoped so.)

“We are fully aware of what it means should Argentum not be the man responsible,” Noctis replied, his tone surprisingly calm. He was tense, though. Even more than at the beginning of the meeting. Drautos was getting to him. This entire situation was getting to him. Gladio shifted slightly closer to the throne, wishing to support, but unsure what exactly he could allow himself to do. He hoped his presence at Noct’s side would be enough. It had to be. “We are not taking this matter lightly.”

“Aren’t you, Highness?” Drautos challenged haughtily. “Me and my men have served the Crown fighting on the front lines for years.”

“We are aware of that.”

“And yet here you are, accusing one of ours of being a cold-blooded murderer. Without any proof, either, except your word.”

“You would accuse Us of lying?” Noctis asked of him again, raising an eyebrow. He would look calm and composed to the council members, probably, but they didn’t stand a mere step away from him. Gladio did. And he saw the way the prince was gripping on to the armrests of the throne, the tension in his neck and back. Which wasn’t surprising. This was going bad. Really, really bad.

Gladio feared it might even blow up in their faces at this rate.

Maybe they shouldn’t have tried this. Maybe they should have just given up.

It was a sickening thought to have when he was pretty certain Prompto was actually innocent. But there was more at stake here than just his life. And as things were going, they stood to lose all of it and not gain anything. Damn it. He should have stopped Noct from this course of action. It was too risky, too uncertain. It was too late now, though.

“What reason would We have to lie?” Noctis challenged the captain.

“What reason would you have to investigate this matter personally, Highness?” Drautos challenged back. Noctis frowned. Ignis and Gladio exchanged discrete looks. While the captain’s ire at the insinuation Noctis made was understandable - he _was_ accusing one of the Glaives to potentially be a traitor who killed a comrade, after all - his aggressiveness was starting to seem just a tad suspicious.

“Our reasons are Our own. We are not under any obligation to explain Ourselves to you.”

“Do you refuse to answer because those reasons are personal?” the captain pressed, but quickly turned to the council before Noctis could answer. Not that there was much to say to that unless he lied. His reasons to investigate himself _have_ been personal, after all. “The boy kneeling before us has been seen in the Citadel before, after all,” Drautos continued, addressing the council. “He is known to be the prince’s friend. Who’s to say, then, that he wouldn’t have pulled wool over His Highness’s eyes? Tricked him into believing him innocent?”

“No!” Prompto cried, speaking up for the first time without being addressed. “I wouldn’t! Ever! I never killed anyone and I never tricked Noct!” he yelled desperately, eyes moving between the captain of the Glaives and Noctis and his retinue. “I never tricked you! Not like this! I swear I didn’t, Noct! I swear it!”

“That’s what they all say,” Drautos sneered coldly as he slapped Prompto roughly across the back of his head. The blond fell silent with a muffled whimper. Gladio’s blood boiled at the sight. “And yet how do you explain—”

“Enough!”

Noctis’ voice almost echoed in the chamber from his sudden outburst. Drautos fell silent, eyes widening when they met the prince’s gaze. Gladio didn’t really blame the man. Noctis, usually so calm and reserved, looked furious.

“You would call Our priorities into question? You would accuse Us of putting personal connections before Our people?” the prince demanded as he stood up from his throne. He drew himself up, as tall as he could be, and while that usually wasn’t impressive considering his gangly, eighteen-year-old build, in that moment, he towered over everyone in the room and Drautos in particular. “Remember whom it is you’re speaking to,” Noctis commanded, his tone unyielding and demanding obedience. Drautos bowed his head, but didn’t offer a proper bow or retreat back to his spot.

“Apologies, Highness,” he said, straightening again and meeting the prince’s eyes. “But even you must admit that without any proof, your words are hard to believe. Prince though you may be, a word is only a word. Especially since I don’t believe anyone has ever heard of being able to sense magic!” And here it was. The one hole in their plan. Gladio had hoped, really hoped, that it wouldn’t come up. He should have known better, especially with Drautos present. He was the captain of the Glaive. If anyone would know of such an ability except the King himself, it would be him. “None of the Glaives ever mentioned it or showed signs of being capable of such a thing. And to my knowledge, neither has the King himself.” As should be expected, his exclamation was met with another round of whispers and exchanged looks. Some of the councilmen even glanced at Noctis with doubt and distrust. Gladio nearly trembled from rage. How dare they! Noctis may be young, he may not be ready to be king in full capacity, he may be inexperienced but he isn’t and never would be a liar.

“You would dare,” Gladio started in a low tone, but stopped himself when Noctis raised a hand to silence him. The prince glanced at him over his shoulder and their eyes met. He didn’t say anything, but Gladio knew what he was requesting. He was grateful, Gladio could see it, but this was not a situation in which he could hide behind his Shield. It was not a situation where he needed protection. It was something he had to deal with himself. He had to prove himself.

But at the same time, in this room, surrounded by people whose favor seemed to slowly be losing, the prince also needed all the support he could get.

And if the only way Gladio could show that support was by trusting him and deferring to his judgment, he would. So he snapped his mouth shut and bowed his head, leaving his prince to address Drautos once again.

“If it is proof of Our abilities you require, We shall give it to you,” he said and his words immediately made the whispers of the council fall silent. Drautos narrowed his eyes, his disbelief more than obvious.

“How?”

“Call up one of your Glaives,” Noctis commanded. “Any one of your choosing. Have them use a spell of any kind, as strong as they can make it depending on where they are. We shall tell you what element the spell belongs to and where it was cast,” he offered and if the council was silent before, now it would be possible to hear a pin drop outside of the room. Noctis would hardly appear affected to anyone else, but there was a slight, barely-visible tremor of tension to his frame. Gladio grit his teeth. “Will that satisfy you, Captain?”

It was a gutsy move, and certainly one that would prove his claim. Noctis may interact with some of the Glaives sometimes, but never enough for anyone to accuse him of having asked for their assistance with something like this. Furthermore, it would be Drautos, the very man questioning him, not Noctis himself picking the spell-caster.

It was risky, too, however. Because what if the Glaive was outside of the range of Noct’s senses? Last night made it clear he couldn’t always easily pick up on the magical energies. There was a limit to how close a source had to be for him to sense it. But he did not impose a limit on Drautos of where the Glaive could be. He told him to pick anyone. It could fall on someone in the Citadel’s training rooms just as well as it could fall on the outlook at the top of the tower or somewhere outside in the city.

Drautos didn’t reply right away. He kept staring at Noctis, as if expecting him to back down in the end. But the prince did not. Finally, the captain nodded and took out his phone, dialing a number.

Of course, it took a few seconds for whoever the captain called to do as told. Drautos even had to pull rank and demand they follow the order, not question it. If anything, though, that was a good thing, because if the Glaive was confused about the odd and seemingly random order, then clearly they didn’t know what was going on.

Noctis didn’t move throughout the entire one-sided exchange. He stood stock still, fists clenched at his sides and head slightly bowed. He was focusing, Gladio guessed. Try to sense the spell as it was being cast.

A few seconds passed in silence. No one moved.

Finally, Drautos smirked.

“Well, I suppose that answers—”

“A lightning type spell,” Noctis interrupted him as he straightened again. “Set off in the royal gardens.”

Once again, silence reigned for a few second before Drautos pulled his phone away from his ear and set it to speaker.

“Are you in the royal gardens?” he demanded.

“Yes,” came the immediate, though confused response of the Glaive on the other end of the call. Drautos frowned.

“And you cast a spell of the lightning element?”

“Yes… how did you know? Captain, what is this about?”

Gadio couldn’t hold back the smirk of triumph even if he’d wanted to. Noct did it. He actually did it. No one could contest his claim now, not unless they accused him of outright lying for the sake of one man. Which in this situation would be paramount to accusing him of being an accomplice in the murder of his own people.

“Cast another,” Drautos commanded, his eyes never leaving Noctis. Gladio scowled at him.

“I don’t believe that’s necessary,” he growled. Ignis nodded.

“Indeed. His Highness has already proven himself has he not?”

Drautos ignored them.

“Cast. Another,” he commanded again. As the phone was set to speaker this time, they heard the sound of a spell going off, but it was hard to tell from the sound alone which element it was. Fire or lightning were the most likely, though.

“Ice element. Same location,” Noctis said, as if to spite their predictions. Once again, though, he was correct as the Glaive confirmed the spell they cast. Drautos looked anything but happy, though. In fact, he looked nothing short of frustrated, if not downright furious.

“This has to be a fluke. No one can sense magic like this,” he said quietly, but not quietly enough to not be heard. “Another,” he commanded again.

“I believe His Highness has proven to us enough that he’s not making this up, Captain. The first prediction alone should have been enough to convince you,” another member of the council spoke up, though he didn’t give Drautos any chance to respond to him. Or to demand another spell from the Glaive. Instead, he turned to Noctis and bowed low. “Please excuse our skepticism, Your Highness. It shall not happen again,” he said. Noctis nodded in acknowledgment, but he didn’t relax in the slightest. Not even as the rest of the council bowed in respect as much as apology.

“Does Our word suffice as proof for you, then?” he asked, not even glancing at Drautos anymore. Grudgingly, the captain of the Kingsglaive was forced to back down, and he did with a quick bow of his own. Gladio still glared at him, however, and didn’t let him out of his sight. Sure, realizing that one of the men and women under his command may be a traitor and criminal was a hard pill to swallow. But it hardly warranted this kind of reaction. At least not as far as Gladio was concerned. Something wasn’t right here.

“Certainly. I cannot imagine Your Highness would lie for the sake of a criminal, after all, whether he was your friend in the past or not,” the councilman placated and several others nodded in grim agreement. Noctis nodded back.

“Very well,” he said, sitting down in the throne once more. “Then we are in agreement?” The question may be a bit vague, but it didn’t need to be clearer than that. The members of the council nodded, a few murmurs of agreement (and some of awe, even) accompanied the gesture. Noctis turned his attention to Prompto then. The blond met his eyes, his own still teary, though he did not cry.

“Prompto Argentum,” Noctis started, still in that same, authorative, but slightly detached tone. Gladio thought he saw the blond gulp in response. “You stand accused of murdering two people in direct service to the crown. You pledged innocent.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Prompto confirmed when Noctis paused. His voice was raspy, but he didn’t stutter. In fact, this was the most confident (if disbelieving) Gladio has seen him since the entire thing started. Noctis nodded his understanding.

“In light of the evidence presented to Us, We pronounce you falsely accused and innocent of the crime,” the prince stated, and despite the fact it should have been obvious that that was what he would say, Prompto still sagged slightly where he was kneeling. His eyes seemed to water even more. “You shall be released, and given adequate reparations.”

“I…” Prompto started, but didn’t manage to finish as a sob escaped him. The poor kid had been preparing himself for an execution. What kind of relief did it have to be to so unexpectedly be pronounced innocent and let go? It was hardly a wonder he was falling apart. “Thank you. Thank you, Noct. Thank you.”

Noctis didn’t reprimand him for the familiar address. He merely nodded and waved a hand in dismissal.

“You’re free to go,” he said, because that was really the only thing he _could_ say. Gladio had no doubt he was just as relieved, that he wanted to go down the dais and pull his friend close, or at the very least to tell him to come to his rooms later. Right now, though, he couldn’t do either. Right now, he was still prince regent and court was still in session.

“W-wait!” Prompto called, but his protests went ignored. Though they weren’t as rough with him as they would be with a criminal (or as they had been the last time they’d dragged him out of this room), the Crownsguard standing at his side that had brought him into the room in the first place was now guiding him out. He’d been dismissed and so he had to leave. It was really just how things worked. But going by his slightly panicked look, Prompto didn’t seem to realize as much. “Noct, wait!”

Gladio’s eyes cut to Noctis at the desperate call. The prince sat stiffly in his place, tenser than he’d been throughout the entirety of the meeting, but he didn’t say a word until Prompto was led out of the room and the door shut behind him. A beat passed. Then another. And then,

“Dismissed,” Noctis said. The councilmen bowed and turned, slowly shuffling out of the room. Even once they were all gone, though, the prince didn’t relax. He stood stiffly and silently turned to leave as well without even sparing Ignis or Gladio so much as a glance. The two exchanged looks, but followed after him.

* * *

They traversed the corridors in silence. Several times, Ignis looked like he was about to say something, but ultimately held his tongue. Noctis was still tense, coiled like a spring wound too tight and from what Gladio could see of his face, he still had that stony, royal mask on.

That was how they reached his rooms. But the moment the door closed behind them, Noctis deflated. He sighed, leaned both arms against the couch and Gladio could literally see the tension bleed out of him, along with his energy. The exhaustion that had been visible this morning, the exhaustion he had hidden away so deeply during the meeting, settled over him again. He looked just about ready to collapse.

“It worked,” he mumbled quietly, his tone slightly disbelieving. Gladio frowned. “I… didn’t dream that, right? It actually worked out… they listened to me…”

“They did,” Gladio said slowly, eyeing his charge carefully. Noctis gave a sigh again and bowed his head. He closed his eyes.

“Prompto’s safe… I won’t… I won’t have to execute him…”

“No, you won’t, Noct,” Ignis stepped in, speaking in a low, soothing tone. “You managed to prove his innocence to the council. He’s in no danger anymore. This trial is over.” Well, that wasn’t quite true. In fact, it wasn’t true at all. The trial was only just starting. Because they still had to find the actual murderer and considering it clearly was someone capable of using magic, someone within the Glaive, then it didn’t bode well. At best, it was one spoilt apple going rogue without anyone else knowing, a one-off. At worst, they had traitors in their midst. So no, it wasn’t over, not by a long shot.

Right now, however, Noctis didn’t need anything more to stress over. They could think about it later. Gladio might not be one to coddle the prince as much as Ignis was prone to, but even he could tell now was not the time to be pushing the matter.

“It’s… over…” Noct repeated quietly, almost like he barely understood the words. Gladio frowned and carefully stepped closer to him.

“Yeah. It is,” he reiterated again. Noct nodded.

“Good. That’s… good…” And then his hands slipped from the couch and his knees buckled.

“Noct!” Ignis exclaimed, worry and panic clearly audible in the short call. Gladio sprang forward, easily clearing the remaining few steps separating him from his charge and caught him as the prince crumpled to the floor, like a doll with its strings cut. Instinctively, Gladio checked his breathing and pulse, despite knowing there was little chance of his charge being hurt or anything else.

“He’s fine,” he assured Ignis before the man could work himself up into a worried frenzy. Although looking at his face, he was probably halfway there just from the fact that Noct collapsed the way he had. “It’s probably just the exhaustion catching up to him.”

“I’ll ready his bed,” Ignis announced in response and headed to the prince’s adjacent bedchamber. Gladio nodded in mute reply, though his gaze remained on Noct. His eyes were closed, his breathing deep and even. He looked even paler up close than Gladio had thought he was and the dark rings under his eyes were impossible to miss. Even unconscious, he still looked beyond exhausted. Gladio sighed and shook his head, then shifted his hold and stood up, taking Noct up into his arms easily enough with one hand under his knees and the other under his shoulders in a typical bridal carry. Noct’s head rested against his shoulder. The prince was entirely limp and completely dead to the world. He was light, too. Too light in Gladio’s opinion. The Shield frowned slightly in worry before his expression softened.

“Rest, Noct,” he said quietly, despite knowing the prince wouldn’t hear him. “You did good.”

* * *

When Prompto was released from the Citadel, once again a free man with a record as clean as his conscience and with what to him seemed to be a small fortune as ‘reparations’, he should have been happy. And he was, don’t get him wrong. He _was_ happy and relieved - so indescribably relieved - and thankful. He had thought this would be his last days. Just this morning, he had thought he’d be brought before Noct only to hear him call for his execution. He had resigned himself to it. Expected it. Come to terms with it as well as he could be expected to.

And then Noct claimed him innocent. He let him go. He released him. Because he had believed Prompto enough to try and dig deeper, to find something to prove him innocent when even Prompto himself had given that up for a lost cause.

So yeah. He was definitely happy and relieved and thankful.

But he was also sad and scared, because while he might no longer be facing the death penalty, it still didn’t change the fact that he had nowhere to go. It’s not like this entire ordeal would magically give him his home back or anything. Noctis had to have known that, too.

But he’d let him go. Without explanation or assurance that he was welcome in his apartment or anything. He’d just… let him go. Like he didn’t care what Prompto would do with himself once he was out of the Citadel. Like that was up to him.

Of course, Prompto wasn’t a complete idiot. Though he’d been caught off guard by the court dismissal, once he’d calmed down, he’d realized Noct likely couldn’t just extend a friendly hand to him right then and there. Especially not when their friendship had only just nearly been used to usurp his authority as prince. But he had thought Noct would come to him later, or maybe sent Ignis or Gladio or _something_.

But an hour passed, then two, then three and nothing happened. No one came.

It was as clear an ‘you’re on your own now’ as Prompto could get.

It shouldn’t really surprise him. He’d expected as much, hadn’t he? It was why he had kept his mouth shut about his situation until the truth had been all but forced out of him in the first place. Because he had known this would happen. That Noct and the others would leave him behind to deal with his own mess. Because why would they want to associate with a failure like him?

Sure, they’ve gone above and beyond anything that would be required of them to prove his innocence. But then again, was that really something to brag about? Despite his aloof demeanor that made a lot of people think Noctis was cold and uncaring, Prompto knew that wasn’t the truth. He knew the prince cared, sometimes even a bit too much.

He knew he was kind. He knew he was just. He knew he would be a great king when the time came.

Surely he would have done the same for anyone else, if only to be absolutely certain he condemned someone who was, in fact, guilty. It had nothing to do with Prompto himself. Because Prompto was nothing special.

It was with a heavy acceptance of his fate that Prompto turned away from the Citadel and left without allowing himself to look back once. At first, he headed into the city. Bought some supplies with the money he’d been given. Some fresh clothes comfortable for traveling and food that wouldn’t go bad and a hefty reserve of water. A tent so he had a portable roof to put over his head.

At least he’d been given decent meals while in the Citadel’s prison, so he had the strength to carry it all.

With everything he needed stashed in a brand new rucksack strapped to his back, Prompto moved on. He headed South-West, towards one of Insomnia’s gates. It took him the better part of the day to get there, since the city was so big, but get there he did.

He hesitated then and looked back for the first time. Even from here, from the ground and with so many other tall buildings in the way, the Citadel was still visible, tall and proud like the royals living there. Prompto swallowed.

A part of him wanted to turn back. After all, Insomnia was his home. If he left here, where would he go? This was madness. Absolute, utter madness.

But it wasn’t like anything was keeping him here anymore. He had tried to get by on his own and he had failed spectacularly. Being pardoned from a crime he didn’t commit wouldn’t change that. He could try again, but it would only end with the same result. He had no home to return to and no one to ask for help.

He was alone.

And he had already realized that he would never be able to survive on his own in Insomnia. The last two months have been proof of it.

It was better to try his luck elsewhere, wasn’t it?

It wasn’t like anything was keeping him here. He had no home. No family.

No friends.

He had nothing. Just the things in his rucksack and the clothes on his back. That was it.

That wasn’t enough to have any chance of survival in a city like Insomnia. He had already tried once and he had failed.

It was better to leave.

And so he bowed his head one last time in thanks to the prince who saved his life, because he was still immeasurably thankful even if it had only been done out of duty. And then he turned on his heel, marched up to the gates, and then beyond them, outside the protective Wall that surrounded the city, into the vast, wide world outside to try his luck.

He couldn’t have known that during the three days between his first and second hearing, Noctis had hardly slept a wink. He couldn’t have known that the stress and exhaustion caused him to collapse and remain unconscious for the better part of the next two days. He couldn’t have known Ignis and Gladio have been swamped with duties and responsibilities as a result, since the King and his Shield were still out for the count. He couldn’t have known that despite all of this, they had tried to call and send him texts to find out where he was, persuaded that he’d gotten his phone back with the few things he’d still possessed and unaware that it was still dead.

He couldn’t have known that once Noctis would find out he’d left, he would be crushed.

And by the time the prince finally woke up two days later, Prompto was long gone.

**Author's Note:**

> Headcanon: Noctis can sense magic - this headcanon is one I thought of while considering a few details in the game, particularly regarding elemental energy deposits. If you're interested in the details, I wrote an entire meta on it, which you can read [here](https://glon-morski.tumblr.com/post/627113106554994689/on-noctis-injury-and-its-effects-on-his-magic). Admittedly, though, it doesn't mention sensing Crystal magic, but if we are to assume he can sense elemental magic, I don't really see a reason why the Crstal's magic would be different. Both are a kind of energy and since the Crystal is what allows the Lucis Caelum line to use magic in the first place, it means the energy it gives them is similar enough to the elemental energy that it can interact with it. And if it's similar, then I see no reason why Noctis couldn't sense it as well if he ever needed it.
> 
> With that said, I hope you enjoyed the read. Comments give me life <3
> 
> * * *
> 
> I have a [tumblr](https://glon-morski.tumblr.com/), if you want to come talk to me privately or discuss something (be it about my writing, theories or anything else) or if you're interested in my other headcanons. Or you could join me on my [Discord server](https://discord.gg/CDUr4zR) (CDUr4zR code if you're using the app) to chat, be notified of updates for my current multi-chapter WIPs (or new one-shots), see potential spoilers and previews (also for currently ongoing WIPs) and more :)


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